


Scarlet Blue

by aguamenting, etoilephilante



Series: Souls Painting [1]
Category: ATEEZ (Band)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Wooyoung, Complete, Declarations Of Love, Developing Relationship, Falling In Love, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, Love at First Sight, M/M, Soft Jongho, Students, Swimming, They're all friends, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, actually they're all like wave era, completed work, established relationship seongsang, hidden woosan, jongho needs a big hug, jongho's father is homophobic, jongjoong, jongjoong nation rises, red haired hongjoong, seongsang are together, some characters smoke, student worker hongjoong, swimmer jongho, tiny mention of self harm, uwu
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-26
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-02-19 01:49:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 31,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22903240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aguamenting/pseuds/aguamenting, https://archiveofourown.org/users/etoilephilante/pseuds/etoilephilante
Summary: When Hongjoong meets Jongho at the university's new swimming pool, he doesn't expect the swimmer to make him fall deeply in love with him. But it won't be easy to fight Jongho's situation and Hongjoong's insecurities to win their right to live for each other.Thankfully, their friends have their backs, even though San is acting weirder than the usual since he met Wooyoung -or did he ?- and Mingi and Yunho are both fighting their own demons.
Relationships: Choi Jongho/Kim Hongjoong, Choi San/Jung Wooyoung, Jeong Yunho/Song Mingi, Kang Yeosang/Park Seonghwa
Series: Souls Painting [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1646242
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	1. Water's Murmur

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys!!!!! This is my shy contribution to jongjoong's nation. This whole work was translated by Phil aka etoilephilante, you can read his own Ateez fic Obsidian Skies AND ALL HIS OTHER WORKS BECAUSE HE WORKS HARD !!!
> 
> I'm used to write in french so I'm totally relying on him for the english translation. If the other parts takes time to be posted, it will be his fault krkr (the whole fiction is over in french though)
> 
> I sincerely hope this work will please you !! Though I'll mostly tell jongjoong's story in Scarlet Blue, other stories will follow to explain other character's lives. This is going to be divided in only 4 parts so don't worry it's not a long story !!
> 
> you can hit me up on twitter @jonghtoast uwu

“ _Why don't you kiss me?”_

“ _You look too precious and I’m scared I’ll break you.”_

These words whispered by a strange boy the day before wouldn’t stop playing again and again in Hongjoong’s mind, while he was fidgeting on his rings to get rid of the memory of rugged yet delicate hands cupping his face, to dive in his eyes. The continuous jingle of metal ended up getting him a uselessly violent slap on the arm; Mingi never knew how to control his strength.

“Should we just buy you a rattle? Even my little cousin is less noisy in his playpen, and you don’t even have a reason to be stressed this morning, it’s literally the first day, go outside to smoke if it got to that point. And put that coffee down-”

Hongjoong had given up on the idea of shutting his friend up the very moment he had opened his mouth, knowing it was a losing battle; however, he gripped at his steaming paper cup like it was a lifebelt when Mingi held his hand out to take it away.

“I’m not stressed,” he managed to reply after a never-ending torrent of words that had diverted – how, he couldn’t tell – to when he almost bumped into Yunho when he got out of the hairdresser the week before, because his brand-new blue hair blended with the sky and he didn’t have his specs on.

“More like worried, then,” his friend corrected himself with a softer voice.

“That’s probably the right word, yeah...” admitted Hongjoong, digging into his cigarette pack, intending to follow through Mingi’s advice.

“Is it because of what happened at the pool? You forgot to ask for his number? You’re scared he’s hetero? He ended up having a girlfriend? He’s a superhero and now he’s gone to fend off crime, leaving you like a weeping widow?”

“Maybe if you let me talk instead of spouting bullshit-”

Mingi cackled.

“I know you, I’d have to wait at least six months before you’d start speaking. You’ll spit it out only when you’re done with me.”

“ _You’re in the student union?”_

“ _No, I’m a swimmer in the uni’s team,” the_ _boy_ _next to him_ _smiled,_ _nodding towards Mingi – who was enthusiastically speaking to three other members of the swimming team further away._

_Hongjoong continued to look around himself. A few days before classes started, the student union had organized the campus’ new swimming pool’s inauguration_ _–_ _its_ _Olympic size would welcome national tournaments from now on. There wasn’t a lot of people, barely forty students showed up, mostly the college swimmers’ friends. As far as Hongjoong was concerned, the crowd’s size was just enough, and the free buffet a lot more filled. He was roam_ _ing close to it, nibbling on the biggest amount of olive cakes he could manage, a beer in his hand, when a stranger_ _had_ _shyly approached him wondering why he was left alone in silence._

“ _Hongjoong,” he eventually introduced himself, intrigued when the other had yet to do it._

_The gesture seemed to call it to his mind, and he reacted by_ _widening his eyes._ _Hongjoong got the urge to laugh when he noticed him opening, closing, and opening again his mouth like a fish out of water._

“ _Oh, sorry, I completely forgot. I’m Jongho.”_

“It’s okay. He was cute and kind, that’s all. How come you don’t know him, by the way? He told me he’s in the team?”

“Jongho?”

Mingi shrugged.

“Oh, you know, we see him from afar. We’re not really a team, you know, we swim, we train, we don’t really get to get to know each other.”

Hongjoong waited until he had lit his cigarette, inhaling a cloud of white smoke that relieved his turmoil for a bit.

“But you all get along pretty well, in the club. You’re always out with Yunho and Seonghwa.”

“It’s not the same, your boy’s younger, he wasn’t training with us last year. He’s super good, so our uni admitted him in the club this year, but I think his grades are kinda bad, and he’s gonna need better results than us if he wants to stay. His father even got him a personal coach, so he doesn’t really hang out with us.”

Mingi always kept his ears open for the rumors running around each corner of their college. He knew everything, everyone, and always had a solution for each distressed student. Being on the swimming team didn’t allow him to be the student union’s president as well, even though he had already been asked multiple times; and Hongjoong never failed to be amazed to see him following him around everywhere he went. He had never imagined he could be friends with such a social and active person, but he held back from expressing his doubts to this huge swimmer sticking to him like glue. It was likely that Mingi would panic and scream at him that he would protect him until the end of time. Hongjoong would have suspected that Mingi fell in love with him, if it wasn’t for the complicated relationship he had with his teammate Yunho, whom he had been languorously making out with every Saturday night for months now, without ever talking about it the next day. Even if he had never understood the tall and hyperactive young man’s friendliness, Hongjoong was happy to feel surrounded and supported, unused to the feeling. The swimming team quickly made space for him, with two of their friends, Yeosang and San, both loyal supporters from the pool’s rows during practice hours. They spent as much time there as the swimmers in the end, unless you deducted the cigarettes Hongjoong went outside to smoke; and yet, may that be in the old or the newly opened pool, he never dipped at least a toe in the water even once.

“ _I guess you don’t smoke?”_

_Jongho negatively shook his head; even so, he didn’t get rid of this fond gaze of his._

“ _That’s all?” Hongjoong startled after a few silent seconds. “No grand speech about how unhealthy cigarettes are or how thank god for the great athlete you are isn’t addicted to it at the risk of ruining all his performances and his breath, and who knows what else?”_

_The other widened his eyes even more and burst out in laughter. Hongjoong realized at that moment, when a shiver ran through his spine, that Jongho didn’t look like the smiley kind. While he was giggling, he took the time to scrutinize his small lips and his round face, still boyish with high cheekbones. He was quite short and stocky for a swimmer, unlike the poles Mingi, Seonghwa, and Yunho were. Hongjoong held back a deep sigh when he_ _remembered that he_ _had_ _still stood taller than him when he had followed him outside to smoke._

“ _Do whatever you want with your lungs. I may swim, but it’s not my place to antagonize anyone. If that makes you feel better, go for it.”_

The sky had been getting darker and darker. Hongjoong only had the blazing red ash and the flame of his lighter to allow Jongho to see he was raising a brow, looking straight at him. It might have been the first time someone told him something like that, if people didn’t have criticisms for him, they usually just kept quiet. He tried to ignore the vague warmth invading his chest while he took a drag on his cigarette, weirdly not even wanting to finish it anymore.

“ _And you don’t swim, I guess?” Jongho opened his mouth again, walking_ _a few meters away, hands in his pockets and looking up – to the shy stars that started appearing in the purples and oranges of the darken_ _ing_ _sky._

“ _Me? Never, the only reason I don’t drown is that I’m so light I float.”_

_His bitterness barely concealed with a little humor made Jongho laugh again, turning back around to meet Hongjoong’s eyes. The latter couldn’t help but notice the dusk’s reflection in his black irises, barely realizing he was also smiling._

“ _So this bigass leather jacket in summer, it’s to hide a hang-up?”_

“ _Hey! It was supposed to be subtle!”_

“And you like him, then? You spent the whole evening together, I even thought you left.”

“To go where dumbass, I promised to drive you back home!” Hongjoong pouted, offended.

“Nice change of subject, but I’m not stupid!” Amused, Mingi took advantage of their height difference to lock one of his long arms around Hongjoong’s neck – shutting off the, _of course, you are_ that answered him – and yelled in his ears:

“SO YOU HAVE A CRUSH, OL’ MAN!”

“LET ME OUT, YOU BEANPOLE!”

“Hongjoong has a crush?”

San’s gentle voice could have felt soothing to anyone who didn’t know him, but the accused felt cold sweat drip all the way down his spine when he understood there was no chance his encounter with Jongho would remain undisclosed now. Even Mingi suddenly let him go, his eyes full of worry.

“I hope it’s the team’s newbie, he looks big, and it would do you good to get laid.”

Hongjoong choked on the smoke of his cigarette, almost spitting its butt out of his lips.

“How did you even see that- No, actually don’t even answer!”

San tilted his head towards him and gave him an adorable dimpled smile as if he hadn’t just uttered these words everyone had heard. Hongjoong felt a bit reassured to at least see Yunho, Seonghwa, and Yeosang, who came with him, had all tripped over their own two feet, eyes wide, suddenly overtaken by a violent coughing fit.

“ _Aren’t you going_ _inside_ _?”_

“ _You aren’t either.”_

_They smiled_ _at each other under the street lamps’ lights near the pool’s entrance. Tired of standing up, they_ _had_ _flopped down on the low wall that separated flowers from the path’s slabs, next to each other._

“ _You don’t have to stay with me.”_

“ _But I staying because I want to, though.”_

_Hongjoong looked away, blushing. His eyes fell on their thighs, they were almost touch_ _ing_ _, Jongho’s hand was so close to his, and he felt his cheeks warming up even more. Jongho smelled good, his perfume_ _now mixed with the night’s odor, and he felt terrible about smelling like cigarette_ _s_ _and old leather._

“ _Do you want me to leave? I understand if you want to stay alone.”_

_Jongho’s voice had become shyer._

“ _No! I mean, well…”_

_Hongjoong felt that his own eagerness might have been excessive, but before he could rectify, a hand grabbed his, and his words got lost before they could reach past his lips. He returned the gesture by intertwining his fingers with Jongho’s, making sure not to hurt him with his rings. When the boy raised his head, a gentle half-smile playing on his lips in the twilight, his heart skipped._

“Hello to you too,” groaned Mingi, rubbing circles against his temples.

San was a difficult friend to have. With small, almond-shaped eyes that almost closed whenever he smiled, his high eyebrows that gave him an innocent look; everything about him made him think about the plushies that never left San’s side, even during classes. However, damn whoever trusted his appearance because the very moment San opened his mouth, he would make the whole room uncomfortable or would spill intimate and confidential pieces of information, or unsettling truths, and even personal analysis too accurate to be told out loud. Yet he wasn’t someone who couldn’t be trusted, but he needed to be told what consequences a piece of information could have every time you shared it with him, to give him precise rules, and then pray that one day, these rules would not clash with his own morals. That’s how Seonghwa had finally managed to confess to Yeosang, during their senior year of high school: San had spilled the beans mid lunch about how the swimmer liked to loudly jerk it off thinking about his spicy friend. As Seonghwa's face had been minutes away from exploding, Mingi and Yunho had to get the way too honest boy away so the two other boys could talk about what just happened. And fortunately for Seonghwa, Yeosang hadn’t been entirely repulsed by the idea itself.

Thinking about it, Hongjoong figured he could actually understand why Mingi decided to take him under his wings. Like San, isolated and lonely, as asocial as San was unpredictable, they both had difficulties to fit in anywhere they went. Looking closer at their mismatched group of friends, it was apparent it was a patchwork of weird characters, too colorful to be happy outside of a just as strange circle. Seonghwa and his obsession with cleaning and geometric perfection, Yunho and his poor attention span and memory, or Yeosang and his absolute rejection of anything related to sports – miraculously except for his relationship with Seonghwa, a professional swimmer. And of course, Mingi and his inability to speak in any other way wasn’t yelling or to keep himself from jumping all around the place.

As he was prepared to launch himself in a way too long explanation, Hongjoong kept himself from gritting his teeth in frustration when the small boy suddenly pointed behind him:

“Isn’t that him, over there?”

And Hongjoong met this intense gaze that flustered him, unsure about how to act. It was indeed Jongho looking at him after he had overheard San and seen the finger still pointed towards him – Seonghwa sighed and lowered it down for him. He was with a classmate, who was pulling at his arm, visibly annoyed to see him stop midway. As embarrassed as Hongjoong, and apparently as lost, Jongho gave him a knowing smile with a shy handwave, before following his friend in another building.

“Wake up, you look like you just saw a ghost,” told him Yeosang with – little – kindness.

“Did you see? He waved at you,” San smiled, hugging against his chest around Japanese dog plushy, looking very satisfied.

“I saw, I happen to have eyes,” Hongjoong mumbled, his voice less confident than he would have liked, gripping his cigarette that couldn’t calm his heartbeat down anymore.

“ _Why don't you kiss me?”_

“ _You look too precious and I’m scared I’ll break you.”_

_Hongjoong shivered. Jongho raised his fingers to his hair, delicately playing with them as he lightly kissed his temple, before running his calloused hand on his cheek. He slightly withdrew his face to take in Hongjoong’s, who, taken aback, didn’t know what to say, settling with staring back at him._

“ _Just say it if I smell like smoke,” he said eventually, an amused look on his face, hoping to hide his heart's hammering._

_Jongho frowned._

“ _Of course not.”_

_Hongjoong raised his eyebrows, doubtful._

“ _I mean,” said Jongho. “You do smell like smoke, but…”_

_A few seconds went by, during which Jongho looked like he was desperately searching for the right way to say his thoughts out loud, his hand still linked to Hongjoong’s – in the end, he deeply inhaled and kissed him._

_If Hongjoong made a surprised noise when he suddenly felt Jongho’s lips against his, the building tension that had been growing between them ever since the beginning of the evening reached its climax, and he stopped thinking to throw an arm around Jongho’s neck to kiss him back._

Hongjoong wanted to tear his hair off thinking back to this long kiss with the young swimmer, that had lasted dozens of minutes before someone came out of the pool complex to go to the parking lot; students were starting to leave the inauguration party. They had continued talking for at least an hour, hands tied, their voices low, only a few centimeters apart, before a vaguely worried Yunho called Hongjoong to ask him to drive a way too drunk Mingi home.

Ever since that night, he had missed Jongho, unable to find him anywhere on social media and having forgotten to ask for his phone number. Handling a growing relationship wasn’t on top of Hongjoong’s priorities, and he felt helpless when he realized the effect a simple smile from twenty meters away had had on him.

He sighed and threw the butt of his cigarette in an ashtray while Seonghwa kindly kept the door open for him to go back inside his building, a sympathetic smile on his lips.

***

Hongjoong had met Mingi on a rainy day. He had taken shelter in the school’s pool complex, still fully clothed, barefoot, and his pants cuffed, but at least he had a towel around his – even thinner at the time – shoulders. He thought the world was too big for him, the sky a stifling lead weight, and the air itself was unbreathable. The piling pressure of classes and his night shifts as a cleaner in a movie theater, the quiet loneliness of his apartment, and the noisy and crowded one of his college; outpouring anxiety so overwhelming he couldn’t breathe anymore. He had gone in the building at the other side of the lawn, only looking for a sheltered place where he didn’t see anyone. He hadn’t even known it was the campus’ pool; and even if he had known, he wouldn’t have changed in his swimming trunks and even less bath in it. Old insecurities and scars were still visible on his translucent skin. He had wanted to burst into tears, from relief, when he had noticed there wasn’t anyone in the pool. Nobody to ask questions, nobody to wonder why he was alone or to watch him like he was an abandoned animal on the side road, nobody to make noise, nobody to notice him. He had settled, ass on the cold tiles, legs extended so only his heels would dip in the chlorinated water, removing his earphones to close his eyes and listen to the calm turquoise water. He had stayed like that for an unknown amount of time until he heard noises in the locker room. He had had just enough time to jump to his feet, legs shaky, and to scamper towards the footbath, that students started slowly getting out the locker room, and nobody had seen him.

Or at least, that one time. Hongjoong had been coming back to the pool, same hour, finding there an unequaled peace; until Mingi found him, and it was over. Hongjoong had been dipping his hand to draw unknown and ephemeral shapes in the water, amusing himself sometimes by flicking a few drops. Engrossed in his childish game, he hadn’t paid attention to the growing hubbub behind the locker room’s walls, so the first swimmer to arrive found him there when he opened the door. A beanpole so tall you’d probably wonder how he still easily went through doors, with crescent eyes, tan skin, and hair similar to a bird’s nest. Hongjoong knew him, everyone knew Song Mingi, who yelled in the hallways and jumped around the whole campus; it was rare, not to say miraculous to see him without hearing him first. But it had been however the case at that moment, the swimmer looked at him with a warranted astonishment and Hongjoong, caught red-handed, hadn’t dared to move, frozen like a praying cat.

Mingi had closed the door behind him with a care that, yet again, few would have suspected from him. He had silently scurried over to the red-haired who, his feet still underwater, was staring at him with wariness, still frozen and unable to get out of the situation. With the same agility he usually displayed, the other dived in the pool, and without getting too close, he had told him to go to the rows:

“ _Go sit over there, instead, the coaches will scold you if you take their seat_.”

Stunned, Hongjoong had obeyed. His mind had forgotten where the exit was, and when he let himself fall on the blue plastic seats, Mingi had given him a blinding smile and a thumb up while his teammates came hurtling to throw themselves in the water much less carefully. His toes bare and shivering, Hongjoong had glanced at the window, where a night sky was starting to replace the late afternoon, excoriating himself for getting trapped, alone in this place now invaded by unknown people. But he couldn’t keep beating himself up for his careless mistake as two voices had startled him:

“ _Excuse me, but do you mind if we sit next to you? We can’t see that well from higher…_ ”

“ _Are you the one_ _who leaves everyday thinking no one_ _can_ _see you because you can’t stand being close to other humans?_ ”

“ _Oh shut the fuck up, San, you’re going to make him even more uncomfortable!_ ”

“ _I sure hope you don’t kiss your mom with that dirty mouth…_ ”

Then San had sat right next to Hongjoong, his big round dog plushy squeezed against his chest, giving a knowing look to the boy as his friend was rolling his eyes behind his back. And that was how he met San and Yeosang. His tongue had loosened gradually as training had gone by, getting as far as exchanging a few words with the boys, especially San, who kept making comments at him, sometimes explaining some exercises, or asking random questions as if it had been a job interview. They hadn’t seemed at all surprised by Hongjoong’s – at first – unsure voice and succinct answers, and San had naturally asked him to stay next time he would be going to the pool before the swimmers’ training as well. Hongjoong barely could nod that Mingi made him jump with a delightful shout; and never again, Hongjoong had walked alone in his college’s hallways after that. The most surprising was that this new pattern should have annoyed him, displeased him, but that wasn’t the case, and it never became the case. If he had his earphones on, Mingi would just yell louder in his ears when he had something to say, and Yeosang would only quietly sit down near him to ask for one of the earbuds and read a book. If he was still dozing off after almost pulling an all-nighter, Seonghwa would nudge his arm when classes were starting, San would get two vanilla coffees at the vending machine on toughest mornings, while Yunho would speak for him in classes with fewer students if a lecturer tested him on something he hadn't prepared. Without really noticing it, he had started to fit in their group, since everyone acted like they had known him for years like it was only right for him to be here and to do things at his own pace.

But Hongjoong still made sure to have some alone time, just for himself, not too much, just enough, to go hide in the pool for around an hour, twice a week. Between the moment the cleaners would do their job and the moment training would begin, he would stay here, alone with the turquoise water. An hour before his friends’ noisiness and after the stress of classes he was struggling in, an hour where time and space didn’t matter. He felt like submerged in a soothing blue gemstone, its transparency comforting – a scarlet ruby lost in the middle of the aquatic sky's vastness. During the new pool’s opening, he had amused himself by admiring how the water’s blue reflected on his red hair and there laid one of the reasons why he dyed his hair a strawberry red, to intensify the contrast even more.

His astonishment was equal to the one that froze him the day he met Mingi when he arrived in the vast pool’s area and noticed a lone swimmer doing lengths, at a remarkable speed and mysteriously with no splashes. He could make out ashy hair lost in turquoise and golden skin in red and black swimming trunks. Certainty hit him like you’d hit the gong; Jongho was training alone, before practice with the club, during the time there wasn’t anyone, during Hongjoong’s moment.

“ _His father even got him a personal coach, so he doesn’t really hang out with us.”_

Hongjoong frowned, ready to flee if he noticed even a strand of hair of an unknown person, and he scrutinized the big pool’s surrounding. Not seeing anyone, intrigued, he stealthily came closer, as if to avoid breaking Jongho’s focus, his towel wrapped around him like a jacket. The boy eventually stopped swimming, grasping at the pool’s edge, near the glass wall, his back facing Hongjoong; he had yet to notice him. The small ruby kept approaching, moved by an unknown instinct, until his hand grazed the water’s surface, intending to make a sound to warn Jongho of his presence. But he barely had dipped his knuckles in the blue of the water that Jongho turned around. Hongjoong wondered if he was able to feel the water’s vibrations, which – considering the ease he displayed when he was inside it – would not have been surprising, or it might have been that same occult coincidence that had already reunited them before.

Both students stared stonily at each other for a few seconds, but Jongho didn’t wait for more than one or two beats before he started smiling, with this sensual smile of his that shook Hongjoong’s heart ever since he had noticed he didn’t smile at others the same way.

“I almost didn’t recognize you, with your red hair.”

Hongjoong could feel his own eyes sparkling.

“Why are you stealing my hideout?” he sniped back as an answer.

“I thought you don't swim?” retorted Jongho, extending his arms on both sides of the pool’s edge, now facing his visitor.

Giving no answer, enjoying the water’s noise as it was being stirred by the swimmer, Hongjoong slowly rolled his slacks to his knees – the furthest he could roll them. Sitting on the water’s edge, at the opposite of Jongho, the distance between them both quite a substantial one, he dipped his calves in the water's blue, sitting on the tiles, looking tiny wrapped in his huge white towel. He raised his head towards Jongho and eventually smiled back at him, sure that even from that far away, he would see it.

“Can you time me and tell me how much it takes me to reach you?”

Hongjoong enthusiastically nodded, the gentle brush of his hair – softened by the recent dye – relaxing him even more than he already was.

_Five seconds._ He thought to himself that he didn’t even know Mingi, Seonghwa, or Yunho’s level. He only knew that they were good enough to continue swimming at nationals. From what Mingi had said, Jongho was one of the best among them. He didn’t settle with just the club’s training, two or three times a week, he swam once or twice a day as well. All that without counting in his regular jogging to perfect his stamina, or even bodybuilding to strengthen his muscles. Hongjoong sighed, wondering how it would feel to be the best at something. To feel like he was at the right place, in his element, his spot.

_Ten seconds._ He hadn’t even let anyone come with him to the pool complex, not even San or Yeosang, who he knew usually arrived early. San automatically playing on his phone. Yeosang holding Seonghwa’s hand until they reached the building’s entrance, where they discretely kissed, talking about nothings in between each touch, in their own love bubble. Nobody had ever asked to go with him either, it was one of his habits they respected, like his naps or his cigarettes.

_Fifteen seconds._ Weirdly enough, Jongho’s presence didn’t annoy him, as if he was an integral part of the clearer than crystal water. Probably because it was the case, seeing how he moved like he was himself liquid, producing no foam nor reef, splashing no water drops. Hongjoong sighed, wondering what he must look like, him who drowned in oversized jackets, oversized friends, oversized buildings as if nothing fit him well.

_Twenty seconds._ He then thought back to the feeling of Jongho’s lips against his, and it was just as if his dark thoughts got drowned by the crystal blue water. The swimmer might well have been taller than him, they had stood at the same level that night. His rugged palms proofs of a probably tough lifestyle, like him, even though they were different. His quiet voice naturally fit in his ears, and Hongjoong was sure he would be able to hear him in a crowd without needing him to yell. His small mouth was sincere and inexperienced, and Hongjoong often fell asleep, remembering his touches.

“Twenty-seven seconds, almost twenty-eight, but I can’t count centiseconds, sorry. I’m a monofunctional timer,” softly said Hongjoong when ashy gray emerged from under the surface.

Jongho blew a few bubbles underwater, barely out-of-breath, before pulling a face and crossing his arms on the tiles to keep himself still, resting his chin on them.

“That’s not great.”

“I admit I can't see how.”

“The world's record in a fifty meters pool like this one is around twenty seconds.”

Hongjoong almost choked.

“Are you kidding, you’re incredibly close to it!”

Jongho let a small laugh out, their eyes meeting again; their gaze locked, he shifted his head so his cheeks would rest on his crossed arms, staring up at him from a low-angle.

“It’s not enough. And even if it was, I can’t settle for what I already can do, I have to train to always be better, for as long as I can.”

It was Hongjoong’s turn to look ahead in the distance, through the glass wall.

“And when you can’t do it anymore?”

Jongho didn’t answer right away, and for a moment, there was only the tenuous noise of water’s filtering between them.

“When I can’t do it anymore, I hope I won’t have anything to regret,” he simply ended up saying.

Hongjoong shifted back, to see Jongho hadn’t moved, his eyes riveted to his face, scrutinizing him, showing no coyness but never losing their tenderness.

“A true pirate,” he answered with the same tone. “Wandering all around the seas from day to day, living like each one’s the last. With no regret.”

Jongho burst into laughter, it was a bright laugh, free of the shy awkwardness that had been lingering between them during the inauguration party. A laugh that loudly echoed in the big pool complex, vibrant, and full of life, that crinkled his eyes and raised his cheekbones high.

“Fun fact: I’ve never dipped a toe in seawater. I’ve always been very scared of the sea, ever since I was a little boy.”

Dumbfounded, Hongjoong widened his eyes until they were two perfectly round little balls.

“A swimmer who doesn’t like the sea? Is it some kind of existential paradox?”

Jongho laughed again, a little louder, before playing with the water, the same way Hongjoong had done when he was alone; which he didn’t fail to notice.

“That’s exactly what’s different, though. Here I can see everything, everything’s clear. I know where I am, what I should do. A pool might look big, but it’s a closed space, a small one, sheltered from the outside world. It’s light blue as if we dived in a piece of the sky.”

“Poetic.”

“Right?” Jongho smiled. “The sea is infinite, it’s deep, it’s opaque. No traced lines, no real goal, we don’t know what could jump at us. Did you know scientists know more about the moon’s surface than the abyss? Terrifying.”

It was Hongjoong’s turn to be amused at his actually frightened face. Without even thinking, he stretched his hand to Jongho’s forehead to move a gray lock, wet and lost, aside. He realized what he had done only when he noticed the swimmer’s arm get covered in goosebumps.

“Well it’s funny, I think that’s what makes me feel at ease. Here we can see everything, so much that it’s too much. I don’t like being seen.”

“Oh, I’ve noticed it.”

Hongjoong splashed water to his face, triggering a new burst of laughter.

“There’s no man in the sea, even though we tried to conquer it. If I want to bath my legs in it, nobody will see them. We’re free, everything can happen… this, here, is a box. A pretty box, comforting, protective, but still a box. It’s beautiful to watch, just like crystal, but I don’t fit in it.”

Jongho listened without a word, his posture unchanged.

“Is there really that much stuff you don’t want to show?”

Hongjoong shrugged, lowering his head to meet the swimmer’s eyes once again, his scarlet bangs slightly covering his eyes.

“No, not that much. Just enough to be bothered by it.”

Jongho straightened up, supporting himself on his arms.

“I think I understand.”

He brought his body closer to Hongjoong, who remained still and allowed the gap between them to be decreased until there wasn’t any anymore; the moment Jongho laid his cheek on his thigh, without ever looking away from him, it was his turn to shiver. He raised his left hand, folded into a fist, to his chin, as his legs were nonchalantly swaying underwater. The red-haired boy carefully removed his rings before he ran the tip of his fingers on Jongho’s face the same way he had done to the water’s surface; and the boy closed his eyes for a few seconds. Shut away in their monochromatic bubble, a lonely ruby set in it, none of the two men realized that time continued to flow by; none of them would have complained if it had to stop like that forever.

When Hongjoong dared to brush Jongho’s lips, the latter opened his eyes, to haul half his body above the water, his strong palm flattened against the tiles. He didn’t intend to get out the pool, but only to raise himself to Hongjoong’s lips, where he left a chaste kiss and tried to make it last as long as he could. He was supporting himself with his arms’ strength as the other had slipped his fingers behind his neck, occupying them again by drawing abstract patterns with the tip of his nails. A stolen breath, louder than the other ones, and the locker room’s door opened, shattering their bubble, Jongho falling back in the water with a clamor this time, caught in the middle of the foam.

“Hongjoong, do you have a cigarette for Yeosang? Oh, sorry, I didn’t think-”

A little shaken, the person of interest took a few seconds to react, straightening somehow.

“I’ll meet him outside, hold up.”

_See you later_ , mouthed Hongjoong to Jongho’s eyes, that followed him.

***

Hongjoong hadn’t realized how tired he was until the moment his legs gave out right after he had turned the keys in his door’s keyhole, closing it behind him. He let himself slide against the wall, exhaling deeply, his eyes irritated by cleaning products’ fumes and his throat dry. His back hurt from exhaustion, and his thighs were sore as he already felt how stiff his muscles were, he would have fallen asleep there if his phone hadn’t vigorously buzzed in his pocket, connecting back to the outside world. It was a used and old stuff, a phone with a touch-sensitive screen but no data subscription, that struggled to understand when Hongjoong left the movie theater’s basement where he cleaned at night. It was even likely that the texts he had just received were actually sent a few hours earlier in the evening.

A text from Mingi: “ _You’re welcome_.”

Hongjoong raised a brow, and as if to answer his question, his phone buzzed a second time, and his screen displayed an unknown number.

“ _Mingi insisted that I save your_ _number_ _, I hope you won't feel uncomfortable. You don't have to text me back if you don't want to. I’m not at the pool on_ _W_ _ednesdays and_ _T_ _hursdays if you need your hideout. Come by whenever you want. Red and blue_ _match_ _well together. -Jongho._ ”

Hongjoong gaped, rereading the text multiple times without really believing in it, suddenly wholly awake. He had felt guilty the last three days for leaving the pool complex without any further ado, under San’s flabbergasted eyes and Yeosang’s suspicious ones, and especially, once again unable to get in touch with Jongho. He wasn’t even sure he wanted to, there was a ringing in his ears every time he thought about the boy, and yet, against his better judgment, he couldn’t stop thinking about him, his thoughts were attracted to him like magnets.

He had had a lot of relationships, a lot of hookups, a lot of coming and going in his life, but these adventures never lasted more than a few weeks. Liking boys hadn’t helped to build a healthy vision of romantic relationships – it might have been another reason why Mingi had insisted on introducing him to their group of friends as if being surrounded by people like him was a kind of safety net. His family had always been too broke to look after him for too long anyway, it stood to reason for Hongjoong to leave his family’s household the year he had turned sixteen to find a job in the city. He had managed to somehow register to college, two years late, after saving enough from meager salaries. He hadn’t had to live with the fear of a coming out or to be thrown out on the street, unlike some of his past conquests. It was hard to accept being gay, regarding your family, more generally others, and especially regarding yourself. It was why he hadn’t welcomed anyone in his life ever since he lived alone, too busy, too mentally charged to stand the risk, the weight of concerns, having to comfort someone else, and calm their doubts. His college friends were the first people to take care of him without expecting from him to be up to some standards, and _a fortiori_ , he had never met anyone like Jongho.

_I hope you won’t feel uncomfortable._ Hongjoong slowly straightened up on his buttocks and used the remaining strength in his arms to take off his black top, worn out by moths on his sleeves’ ends. The tiny and round scars from cigarette burns at the bottom of his stomach weren’t too visible in the darkness of his room, but the ones on top of his thighs still pulled at his skin when he had walked a bit too much some days. With only his boxers covering him, he took a few steps forward before flopping down once again on his bed, his apartment small enough that he didn’t need to move too far. His mind boiling with thoughts and memories, he weakly lit a cigarette, dragging with the tip of his fingers the ashtray on his nightstand closer to him. A Pikachu shaped ashtray, a gift from San the first time he had come to his apartment.

_You don’t have to text me back._ It was odd for Jongho to bother with sending him a text so detailed if he did really expect that Hongjoong could not answer. However, if the latter counted every moment they had shared until now, he had to admit that he hadn’t been the one to take the first steps. Jongho had come to talk to him at the inauguration party, had gone with him outside, had kissed him, had rested his head on his legs, and had kissed him again. Never taking the lead, the scarlet boy had only settled with going along with his advances, without ever taking initiatives. The courage he had mustered to promise Jongho he would be waiting for him at the pool’s exit, intending to ask for his number himself – thanks Mingi – had disappeared the second he had realized there wasn’t a chance they would be alone.

_If you need your hideout._ It was a weird feeling to have the choice, to have the ball in his court. Even during moments of his life that had made him happy, Hongjoong hadn't really had the leisure of having a choice, except for the one to enroll in a university curriculum, against his mother’s judgment. He had noticed that Jongho had told him clearly when he wouldn’t be at the pool as if his comfort naturally came before his own desire to see him again. A hope that he had expressed in an encrypted way, leaving Hongjoong that way the possibility to figure it out, protecting the delicateness of the moment they had shared.

_Red and blue_ _match_ _well together_. Something threatened to explode in his chest as he read, again and again, the last sentence of Jongho’s text. He wanted to trust him, he was curious to see if his hugs would be as gentle as his voice, thirsty to know more about the boy, to share with him, to listen to him as he listened to the murmurs of the water’s surface.

_If you don't swim on Wednesdays and Thursdays, you can come by to see a movie. I work in the local movie theater every evening during night-times screenings. It’s another way to break the lights down. -Hongjoong._

_***_


	2. Maelstrom's eye

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *** *** *** ***
> 
> !!! PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE GOING TO THE CHAPTER !!! at the end, Jongho's father appears and he is homophobic. Some insults are written and if it's a trigger, be careful reading this scene, you can skip from "yes dad, I'm coming !" to Hongjoong saying "Don't worry about me, I was leaving" if you really need to avoid this moment for your mental health. 
> 
> *** *** *** ***
> 
> "Hongjoong met Jongho at the uni swimming pool's party before the school year started. They seem to be fated to each other as they often meet again, but of course, things can never be that simple..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys !!! I'm sorry it took me so long to update, I was waiting for @etoilephilante translation but then I completely forgot to post the chapter as I'm a bit insecure about this work hahahahaklsls. 
> 
> I hope you're still here and still enjoy the story!!!!!! love y'all

*

  
  


“Do you look better, or is it just me?” Mingi subtly welcomed him at the beginning of the week.

Skeptical, Hongjoong sat down next to him on the picnic table’s bench, only giving him an arched eyebrow for an answer.

“Okay, but I see his point, there’s something,” Yunho added hurriedly, sprawled across the table, on Mingi’s other side, so his voice could reach his friend.

“Probably the red dye, I should’ve done it way sooner.”

“It’s true, it does suit you well,” Seonghwa supported him, moving his bag away to let him sit near him.

Hongjoong silently thanked him, both for the seat and for the compliment, and also for the sandwich he was handing to him. Seonghwa had taken on the habit always to have food in his bag, even though his fussiness and OCD forced him to constantly check if the smallest crumb had not spilled from the dozen layers of aluminum foil and cellophane wrapped around the bread. This paradox sometimes made him unbearable, having to stop every few meters to open his bag and make sure of the impermeability of his wrappings, flanked by Yeosang at his side, who would then sigh and let go of his hand, to get his antibacterial gel and hand it to him without a word. Seonghwa would not have allowed him take his hand back after touching food wrappings, and like this, their never-ending ritual systematically triggered Mingi’s whines. Mingi’s whines would then lead to Yunho’s nervousness, his mind unable to focus on anything else anymore; and eventually, Yunho’s nervousness caused San (who could not handle tension) to flee to their classroom. Without noticing it, Hongjoong had brought more stability to their group; he would take off his earphones, gently catching San’s arm to keep him against him, and would throw some biting words at Mingi, to divert his attention. At first, he had tried to understand why Yeosang didn’t simply take Seonghwa’s food in his own bag when they left together on mornings, given that for some unknown reason his only contained a scrap of paper and a mechanical pencil. Only getting back a _it’s too heavy_ in lieu of an answer like it was obvious, he had given up on the idea of changing their habits, liking to find his own spot within them better. Rather than being stressed and exasperated by them, he felt moved by the care Seonghwa put into making sure the six boys always had something to recharge their batteries, despite his OCD concerning cleanliness and his germaphobia. The first few times, it was mostly energetic bars after their workouts, but as Hongjoong started to spend more and more time with them, Seonghwa had started giving him extra sandwiches during lunchtime, or warm dishes when he could drop by to meet him at the theater’s exit.

  
  


It was equally peculiar to see him interact with Yeosang, given that both students seemed totally opposed. Yeosang was usually sour-tempered, ignoring anyone he did not know and not talking much, but to point out other people’s flaws. You needed to spend quite some time with him to understand and accept that it was a matter of deep and chronic insecurities that always made him verbalize only bad things, with him or with others. He focused on issues that needed solutions and when there was not any, he would go round in circles biting his nails, convinced he was failing to see some hidden hazard. The fondness he had for his friends was not too evident, and Hongjoong knew from San that they only realized that Yeosang cared about them after a huge fight. Mingi, Yunho and San had one day had enough with how toxic his attitude was, and had decided in a mutual agreement to spend some time alone, leaving it Seonghwa to explain to Yeosang to what extent he was distressing for everyone. It had turned out that the youth had stopped entirely showing up for class, phone turned off, causing Mingi’s never-ending guilt for days. Seonghwa had ended up taking the bull by the horns, almost literally because he had grabbed Yeosang’s hand and dragged him to his front door, where the three other boys were miserably waiting. This confrontation had been – according to San – sad and pathetic, but nonetheless good for them; Yeosang had burst into tears for the first and last time in their friendship’s history, going into a full panic attack as he faced an issue to which he couldn’t find a solution. Hongjoong did not get many details about the confrontation in itself, but he had noticed that – despite his stubbornness when it came to refusing to carry anything – a hand sanitizer for Seonghwa, a stress ball for Yunho, a small Rilakkuma bear keychain gifted by San, and lastly, a paper tissue for Mingi could always be found in his jacket’s pockets.

  
  


“ _Is Mingi often sick?”_

  
  


“ _No, not really, but he stuffs his mouth with it when he’s being annoying.”_

  
  


“ _Ah.”_

  
  


“San, are you okay?” asked Hongjoong seeing that San was sulking while picking at what looked like a pasta salad, in which he could make out blueberries, cheddar, and peas; something only San could eat.

  
  


“Don’t bother. He hasn’t said a word at all this morning,” Yeosang warned him. “And he doesn’t want to tell us what’s wrong.”

  
  


“Ah, I was telling myself an unpleasant breeze is missing,” Yunho snickered, before flinging himself aside to avoid the aluminum missile Seonghwa threw at him.

  
  


Indeed, San sent a miffed look at Hongjoong without opening his mouth, and started playing with his fork again, sorting his food by color, “ _it was worth it to mix so many gross things to sort them out later,”_ Mingi pointed out. Figuring that it wasn’t very useful to insist, Hongjoong unwrapped his lunch and barely held himself back from throwing himself at Seonghwa to gratefully cry on his shoulder when he found out that he had prepared two times the usual amount of cheese. He had only taken his first bite from the sandwich, that Mingi stood up, making big gestures at someone far away.

  
  


“JONGHO!”

  
  


He almost dropped his bread.

  
  


“What the hell are you doing?”

  
  


Yunho snickered once again, and Hongjoong brought himself closer to launch his bag at his face.

  
  


“We’ve had time to talk after the last training,” Mingi replied, with a wink – way too stressed, in his friend’s opinion. 

  
  


“When you left, he looked lost, left all alone when he came out from the locker room,” Yeosang added. “Even his friend didn’t wait up for him. And you know Mingi.”

  
  


“Oh, I do,” Hongjoong, an explicit death threat glinting in his big, black coffee eyes.

  
  


“You’ll thank me later, you still owe me a drink.”

  
  


“Die,” retorted Hongjoong with all the honesty in the world, while Yunho choked on his laughter, and Yeosang jumped back to avoid being splashed by his orange juice.

  
  


When he raised his eyes again, Jongho was shyly standing a meter away from him, watching Mingi vigorously patting the bench next to him, not daring to comply. Half hidden behind his back, a smaller boy had come along – _finally someone of Hongjoong’s height,_ thought the latter, satisfied. He wasn’t smiling, but his eyes were wide out of curiosity, before he scrunched his nose as he saw the content of San’s lunch – Hongjoong held back the fit of laughter that threatened to spill out of his lips. Jongho noticed his friend’s apparent awkwardness, and took advantage of this to break the ice, deciding to sit down:

  
  


“Here’s my best friend, Wo-”

  
  


“Wooyoung,” San suddenly interrupted him. “He’s Wooyoung. Hi, Wooyoung.”

  
  


He had not been able to help himself, as if no matter how much willpower he put into holding himself back, his mouth could speak for itself, without his consent – truthfully, no one would be surprised to learn it was actually the case. Leaving it to the other boys to look at San, stupefied, Hongjoong slid his gaze to said Wooyoung, whose eyes were bulging, as if scared of what would come out of San’s mouth next. His appearance drastically contrasted with Jongho’s, modestly dressed of jeans and a shirt striped white and pale blue; Hongjoong furiously kept himself from lingering over the fact that pastel colors brought out the young swimmer’s golden complexion so incredibly. Wooyoung wore makeup quite ostentatiously, a black and silver eyeshadow enhancing the shape of his wide eyes, clothes probably not ripped from being too used, an impressive number of rings piercing his ears, and you could note the colorful stains scattered on his hands. It looked like only a shared childhood could explain the two boys’ friendship.

  
  


“Do you know him, San?” softly tried Seonghwa while Yunho once again diverted his focus away from this exchange, after rummaging through Yeosang’s pocket to catch the stress ball he kept for him.

  
  


But it was a waste of breath, the youth immediately retreating back into silence and giving his full attention to the sorting of his food, of which he had yet to take a bite. Wooyoung looked away from San without retorting anything, even though Jongho waited for him to react, apparently not knowing much more than them all. Aware he was probably walking on eggshells, Hongjoong quickly reacted and brutally pushed Yunho with his hip to make room on the bench.

  
  


“Sit with us. We’re not going to spend the day standing there like idiots.”

  
  


“We could spend the day standing there smartly,” Yeosang informed. “If you look like idiots, it’s another matter.”

  
  


“Nice to meet you, Wooyoung, here’s Yeosang,” Seonghwa dramatically sighed with a big hand gesture, and then introduced the other boys.

  
  


Jongho slightly nodded at each new face, before imitating San:

  
  


“And he’s Hongjoong. Hi, Hongjoong.”

  
  


Seonghwa didn’t take offense about being cut off, instead sporting an almost maternal expression on his attractive features. 

  
  


“Hi,” whispered the person of interest, unable to stop his cheeks from becoming pink, and soon after thankful to Yunho for rummaging again through Yeosang’s pocket to get the paper tissue and stuff it in Mingi’s mouth to contain his appreciative whistle. 

  
  


“Thanks for the seat,” Wooyoung timidly said, his face finally lit up by a tiny smile. 

  
  


Jongho sat down next to Hongjoong, intentionally letting their thighs brush against each other.

  
  


“Dudes, no, things’ aren’t right, we need to switch seats.”

  
  


The whole table turned at the same time, intrigued, to Mingi, who was vigorously rubbing his eyes, Yeosang’s paper tissue he had spit out in a small ball in front of him.

  
  


“Hongjoong and Yunho, you look like old cardboard 3D glasses. Switch seats, my eyes hurt. Red and blue, truly, it’s not right.”

  
  


Both boys looked at each other like two cartoon characters, before bursting out in laughter because of Mingi’s childish whines.

  
  


“If you wanted to sit next to Yunho, you could just ask, we all know he won’t tell you off,” San soberly declared, triggering a blush on Yunho’s cheeks as red as his scarlet friend’s hair; blush that diverted both of their attention away from San, who had opened his mouth again.

  
  


“He’s not wrong, this combination isn’t so good,” Yeosang pointed out before biting in his sandwich, his boyfriend snickering straight after in the crease of his shoulder.

  
  


Hongjoong could not resist the desire to meet Jongho’s gaze, sparkling and cheerful, already riveted on him since a few seconds ago. And without the others noticing anything – except maybe Wooyoung, who shot Hongjoong a curious glance –, they laughed under their sleeves, conniving.

  
  


* * *

  
  


They had met one time again, at the theater where Hongjoong worked, after the night-time screening of a particularly obscure Italian art film. Jongho had warned him that he would drop by, so the ruby haired boy had been able to clean the halls he had been assigned to two times faster, before pretending a smoke break to slip in the hall that showed the last movie of the night. He had sneaked midst screening in the seat next to Jongho’s, recognizing his ashy hair at the back of the hall, helped by the subdued light coming from the big screen. Not letting him the time to comfortably sit, the swimmer had thrown himself at his lips with more strength than their previous kisses, animated by an enthusiasm that Hongjoong had guessed due to anticipating this moment ever since they had planned to meet again. 

  
  


“Good evening,” had eventually murmured Jongho, not bothering to release his lips, and visibly holding back a relieved sigh when Hongjoong framed his round face with his bony fingers to balance himself, as he kissed him once more.

  
  


The remaining of the night had gone just like that, Jongho stretching his arm out to squeeze Hongjoong against him, emboldened by the darkness, the smaller suggestively creeping his leg on the swimmer’s thigh, kissing more passionately than ever while trying to make the least noise possible. Hongjoong had immediately sneaked out as soon as the ending credits started rolling on the screen, intimating to Jongho to wait for him outside while he cleaned the hall – thankfully almost empty. He had let him walk all the way to his studio’s door, struggling to let the other leave without finding the courage in himself to ask him to stay; but he knew Jongho had understood. He had guessed it at the tenderness found in their touches, at the way he had brushed his back while he was walking at his side without locking him in a clasp, at the goodbye kiss he had chastely left on his cheek, under his eye.

  
  


Now equipped with chronometer more efficient than his own memory, his legs knee-deep in the water, Hongjoong admired, mesmerized, Jongho move in his element. He could almost distinguish golden fins inside the turquoise water.

  
  


“How much?”

  
  


“Twenty-six and nineteen centiseconds,” Hongjoong proudly answered, ruffling his hair with a spontaneity that would have disconcerted him in other circumstances.

  
  


Jongho rewarded him with a closed-eyed smile that made him look like a kitten from some anime.

  
  


“Time for the butterfly?”

  
  


“You’re the one swimming, you decide.”

  
  


Hongjoong grabbed the swimmer’s small notebook to write down his timing as the other left again with splashes, his speed still impressive despite his choice of stroke a lot harder. He felt tired just watching him jump out of the water to dive in right after, even though he could not deny the beauty of the show. But Hongjoong was not sure he was being completely objective. 

  
  


“How much?”

  
  


“Thirty and fifty-four centiseconds.”

  
  


Jongho grabbed his water bottle to empty it entirely, leaving for Hongjoong the time to express a question that had been running through his mind for days. 

  
  


“Why do you bother with the butterfly stroke, if it’s so hard and slower than the crawl?”

  
  


Surprised, the swimmer shrugged.

  
  


“It’s my specialty. I look slower because, like the breaststroke, it’s not actually made to be fast, but good butterfly swimmers at my level are fewer. It gives me an advantage, and it’s the hardest to learn, so it’s obviously the one my father wanted me to learn. In theory, I must master them all, since we can be required to swim any of them four during competitions."

  
  


“It’s beautiful to watch,” Hongjoong simply nodded, a little lost. 

  
  


“Competitions are all sorted by types of strokes. There’s a race for the breaststroke, for the backstroke, for the butterfly, and then the one of your choice, called the freestyle. It’s the moment it’s usually good to know how to swim the front crawl. It’s easier to be fast. Even during the team relay, there has to be a butterfly swimmer.”

  
  


A “oooh” discreetly escaped Hongjoong’s lips, who had not dared to continue asking him questions, slightly scared of sounding dumb. But with Jongho, everything seemed obvious. His face lit by a childish smile that puffed out even more his round cheeks, he sneaked in between Hongjoong’s thighs to rest his head on them, like it had already become a habit, snaking his arms over his knees to squeeze himself against his pelvis. The intimacy of the gesture was undeniable, although there was not anything sexual about it, for any of them. Hongjoong happily dived into Jongho’s black sparkled with gold pupils, just like he dived in the pool, forgetting that his trousers were completely soaked.

  
  


“You too, you’re beautiful to look at.”

  
  


Jongho’s voice was nothing else but reedy, but it still made Hongjoong hiccup with surprise.

  
  


“Thank god I’m not in swim trunks, you wouldn’t have said that otherwise,” he stuttered, not thinking much about it, dozens of hang-ups immediately forming in his brain the moment he realized he was not muscled, nor prettily tanned, or tall, that his skin was far from being as smooth as Jongho’s torso, that he had dark rings under his eyes, the corner of his lips drooping, constantly sickly-looking, and he started hating the way his voice had sounded high-pitched just now, as well. 

  
  


Jongho lost his smile and tightened his clasp around the small of his back.

  
  


“When you’re ready to show me, I’ll repeat it. You are beautiful.”

  
  


“Jongho… I-”

  
  


“Come with me,” the latter cut him off with a strangely determined face.

  
  


“What do you mean, come with you...”

  
  


Hongjoong noticed the swimmer’s – devilish – smirk only when it was too late. Jongho’s right arm had slid under his butt to lift him up, delicately, but also in a way that he could not free himself from his grip; Jongho supported himself on his other hand to push them away from the pool’s edge, and before Hongjoong had even the time to yell, he dived in the lukewarm water.

  
  


“JONGHO, WHAT ARE YOU DOING?”

  
  


The swimmer’s bubbly laughter reached his ears as he clung to him like a lifebelt, shamelessly digging his nails in his golden skin and tying his legs around his waist with a strength he had not deemed himself capable of. Jongho started stroking his back, without a doubt to try and relax him before letting himself fall backward in the water. He swung his legs to lead them to the middle of the pool, Hongjoong still holding onto him as if he was caught up midst storm, half soaked red strands of hair getting tangled with his panicked breath.

  
  


“Jongho, stop, it’s not funny, I _really_ don’t know how to swim-”

  
  


“But I do, so trust me,” he intimated him, strengthening his grip behind his back and around his hips as if to make him feel better.

  
  


“I...”

  
  


“Hold onto me if you’re scared of sinking. I won’t let anything bad happen to you.”

  
  


“That’s… that’s what I’m doing...”

  
  


Once they arrived in the middle of the pool, Jongho straightened, now floating in a standing position, his clothed partner still wrapped around him, shaking.

  
  


“Hongjoong?”

  
  


He forced him to get his head out of his neck to look at him. Embarrassed, the smaller lowered his eyes, before resting more calmly his hands on Jongho’s shoulders to maintain himself above the surface. His legs untied as well after he realized how dubious the position in which they had found themselves was, and praying that the swimmer had not noticed their closeness too much.

  
  


“Sorry,” he mumbled miserably.

  
  


Jongho blinked, his mouth puckered, and his eyes round with surprise.

  
  


“What are you sorry about, because you were scared? Nonsense. I am the one sorry. I couldn’t resist.”

  
  


He took his hand out of the water to take Hongjoong’s chin between his fingers.

  
  


“I wanted to take you to my world.”

  
  


The small ruby finally raised his eyes to look around himself. Reassured by the strength he felt in Jongho’s arms that helped him stay above the surface, he focused on the new sensations that invaded him. The lightness of his legs, his belly that he felt flatter, the appeasing coolness of the water against his skin, and more than everything, the silk of Jongho’s against his palms. Rid of the edge, the ground, the gravity, they were the only ones left, floating in the middle of this blue.

  
  


“If I’m not mistaken, there’s no training tonight?”

  
  


“Yeah,” replied the swimmer, devouring him with his eyes.

  
  


Their kiss echoed in the gymnasium, their breaths getting lost at the water’s surface as Hongjoong was once again digging his nails in Jongho’s skin, who entangled his fingers in his red hair. All alone in the world, coyness was made into a distant memory, a shameless sigh deliciously escaping from Jongho’s mouth when Hongjoong brought himself closer to wholly embrace him, his legs wrapping themselves back around his hips, this time intentionally. The swimmer’s hands were tick and rugged, probably due to regularly working out, yet Hongjoong found himself fervently desiring to be held tighter. He tilted his head aside, letting Jongho pinch the thin skin of his neck with his lips, completely giving in to them.

  
  


A loud bang came from the locker room’s door as if someone had opened it by throwing themselves at it, almost making them go into cardiac arrest. Hongjoong collapsed in Jongho’s arms, swallowing a mouthful of chlorinated water. At first, he suspected that there had been a mistake about the timetable, that it was just Mingi who almost destroyed the door before jumping in the water as usual. When he was about to yell at him to get lost, a completely unknown voice to him violently called Jongho out:

  
  


“What the fuck are you doing? I’ve been waiting in the parking lot for almost an hour!”

  
  


“Shit,” the youth swore under his breath. “Yes, dad, I’m coming!”

  
  


Hongjoong felt himself being propelled forward, dragged by Jongho’s arm at full speed to the edge of the pool. He helped him get a grip on the tiles to haul himself up. His soaked clothes were unpleasantly sticking to his skin, and gravity struck his back – cold sweat already dripping down on it – like a bag of stones. The way the situation was progressing, he doubted the evening would end very well.

  
  


“Who’s he, with this ridiculous hair?” Jongho’s father aggressively asked as he was getting closer and closer to both young men.

  
  


Hongjoong thought he could pick up a panicked note in the son’s voice when he replied to his father:

  
  


“He’s a friend! He just slipped and fell in the water. I went to fetch him. He’s helping me with my times since Taemin isn’t there during his exams.”

  
  


The man stopped in his track, turning to Hongjoong. He felt all his anger towards him as if he had already hit him, but stopped caring about it the moment the words that had come out of Jongho’s mouth dawned on him. His heart turned into an anvil, like an anchor being dropped to stop a boat’s every movement, and he had to grit his teeth so hard he hurt his jaw to hold back the burning tears that threatened to spill out of his eyes.

  
  


_To say that he had believed in it._

  
  


“If you want to train without Taemin, I’m the one who’s gonna time you, and that’s it. You don’t need friends, and you especially don’t need to save him if he’s dumb enough to jump in the water if he doesn’t know how to swim.”

  
  


“He’s not dumb, dad, stop talking like that, it’s not like he’s done it on purpose! I’m coming. I’ll get changed right away, okay?”

  
  


The man’s face was twisted into a scornful wince, that usually would have had Honjoong frozen on his spot, but he sent him his disdain back with defying eyes, that he would not have had if he did not feel as if he had nothing to lose anymore.

  
  


“As if it isn’t enough that you dyed your hair like your failure of a friend, I should shave your hair off. It’s time to be more serious, Jongho.”

  
  


“Dad, can you let me go and get dressed, _please_?”

  
  


“So this fairy you call your _friend_ pretends to slip and fall in the water again?”

  
  


“Don’t worry about me,” Hongjoong spitted out in a toneless voice. “I was leaving.”

  
  


He bent down to grab his huge towel and wrapped it around himself as if the cloth could protect him from the freezing cold he felt in his every limb from Jongho’s absence. He hoped a little that the swimmer would stand up for him, would hold him back, but it was not the case, and he needed to focus to walk straight to the staff exit, without nourishing some sort of hope. He did not need to change his clothes, so he did not have to drop by the swimming team’s locker room. His ears were buzzing so much that it was a real effort to cross over the pool complex again. When eventually the door slammed behind him, he let himself fall against it, just as he did it with his apartment’s door, and he let out a loud sob, his hands and shoulders starting to shake violently. He hazily dragged himself to the closest bench, still sprawled on the floor, his towel for sole protective shield.

  
  


He did not know how much time he stayed like that, crying like a little boy, unable to stand up to definitely flee from the building, intending to never step a foot inside it ever again, even during his friends’ training. A minute or a whole day could have gone by without it making a difference.

  
  


Hongjoong was stunned to still have enough strength to startle when he heard a violent knock on the door.

  
  


“Hongjoong, can I come in?”

  
  


He did not have enough time to tell himself to play dead, so Jongho would leave him alone, just as he looked like he was about to do anyway, that the door opened to let the swimmer in, his eyes red-rimmed and his teeth gritted. He closed the door behind him, not getting any closer to Hongjoong, and rubbed his hands along his tensed face.

  
  


“Listen, I...”

  
  


Drawing sudden energy from an abrupt self-preservation instinct, Hongjoong jumped to his feet, to head toward the exit.

  
  


“No, please, wait!”

  
  


And a hand encircled his arm.

  
  


“Jongho, don’t bother. I’ve seen enough,” he enunciated with a husky voice. “We should stop there before it becomes ridiculous. Okay? Let me go.”

  
  


“No, there’s no way I’ll let you leave like that.”

  
  


“Then how do you want to let me go? Because one thing’s certain, it’s gonna happen, so let’s make it quick, I’m behind on my sleep schedule, and I have wasted time to make up for.”

  
  


“Hongjoong, look at me, please.”

  
  


“No.”

  
  


He obstinately kept his eyes riveted on the beige tiles at the entrance, surrounded by the staff’s lockers and cardboard boxes full of swimming caps and diving goggles. Jongho’s grasp around his biceps started shaking, just like his voice when he began speaking again.

  
  


“I don’t have a lot of time. He’s going to come back again if I take too much time.”

  
  


“That’s what I’m saying. You should go.”

  
  


“No. I need you to understand. If you’re able to tell me you can forget about me once you’ve gone through that door, looking at me in the eyes, if you’re able to make me believe that all of this never mattered ever since we met, I’ll go right away.”

  
  


Hongjoong managed to raise his head after what felt like an eternity, ready to spit out an aggressive lie to the swimmer’s face, but as soon as his eyes dived again in his, he felt his lips part dumbly around a word that never came out of his mouth. Jongho’s eyes were oozing fear and honesty, guilt, and despair. He released his arm, and no one of them moved.

  
  


“I couldn’t make you believe it, either. Because it’s not true, Hongjoong, I… ever since the first time I saw you at the buffet, with your ginger hair and your big, lost eyes, ever since I realized that you’re more precious than anything I’ve ever known in my life, I can’t get you out of my head, and I’ll fight for it.”

  
  


“Ah, really?” Hongjoong managed to retort, cynical.

  
  


“You don’t understand. My father’s homophobic, sexist, and violent trash. If he raises a hand on you, I couldn’t stand it. I’ll protect you no matter what."

Hongjoong stayed silent, now wholly lost, letting Jongho continue.

“But he’s my father, my family, it’s him who pays for my food, and I still live with him. If he decides to throw me out, I have nothing to help myself and no way to stay here, in college, my grades are terribly bad. I’d lose all opportunity to swim and to compete. No one can help me.

“You don’t have to explain yourself if you don’t want to come out, Jongho,” Hongjoong sighed, his voice softer. “I understand that kind of situation. You're putting your well being and life before everything, and that’s okay. You look like you can make a career for yourself with swimming.”

“Not if it means to give up on you now.”

Their gaze met again, locking and scrutinizing each other.

“If the uni’s sure I can bring in a lot, I’m keeping my scholarship. I’ll be able to ask for a dorm room on campus, alone. I’m training with the team, with my coach – Taemin –, by myself when I can and with you. If I win the regionals, I’m free.”

An instant of silence crept in, a few seconds during which Hongjoong tried his best to organize his thoughts.

“Are you asking me to wait for you to win, to bet on it, so we can potentially fuck?”

“No! I’m telling you that I’ve never had that many reasons to fight and that you’re part of it. I… Listen, I know it sounds egotistical, but…”

“Probably because it is, Jongho. I don’t have time for this, to put up with doubts from a daddy’s boy who-”

“You think I look like a daddy’s boy?” The latter choked out.

Hongjoong frowned.

“Taemin’s too busy these days because he’s only an apprentice, not an actual coach because my dad took his car to deliberately hit my last coach, on the parking lot of my highschool’s pool complex, because his boyfriend waited for him after my training."

Blown away, a gasp shook the ruby haired student again.

“And it gets better, you want me to risk ending up at the hospital to wait for you to win the regionals?

“No, Hongjoong. I want you to stay in my life, because I’m falling in love with you, but I’ll make sure to hide at all cost that we were about to commit to the sin of lust in this fucking pool to my father because I’d die if anything happened to you. I’d die if my only way to protect you were to give up on everything.”

This time, they stayed silent longer. Hongjoong’s wet hair had stopped dripping on the floor. Jongho miserably sniffed and shyly stretched his fingers out to him.

“Why are you doing this?”

“Doing what?”

“Making me hope. And what if you don’t pass the selections?”

“I’ll see when we get there. We already talked about it with Wooyoung. As long as I have a shot at making everything end well, I’ll go for it. I just didn’t want to let you leave before… before I could play with an open hand with you.”

“How kind of you,” it was Hongjoong’s turn to sniff, forced to hide his eyes behind his sleeve as they started spilling again.

“I didn’t think I’d be forced to do it that way.”

“What do you bother? What’s making you think I can still trust you?”

Jongho brushed his arm and slightly pushed on it to make him lower it, to really look at him.

Hold me tight if you’re scared of sinking.

“If you hadn’t wanted to believe me, you’d have already left, no matter what I would’ve said to make you stay.”

* * *

“So, he’s your boyfriend now?”

“San,” Seonghwa sighed, exasperated. “Did you listen at all to anything he said?”

“I did, that’s why I’m asking since he never said if he’s his boyfriend now.”

Hongjoong had a moment of hesitation.

“I don’t know. We didn’t take time to… put a label on this. But I guess not, if we can’t be openly dating on campus either,” he sighed, his hands in his pocket and his eyes staring at nowhere precisely.

“What do you mean you can’t?”

“It’s you who’s not listening if nobody knows he’s gay, how could we be open?”

Seonghwa softly smiled. He ran his fingers in his red strands, that still smelled like chlorine, to affectionately scratch his scalp. Hongjoong tilted his head and caught himself wanting to purr.

“I think I’ve listened very well. Jongho only hides that he’s gay to his family, and his family isn’t with him when he’s here. And he wants to spend the remaining of his time with you while respecting your pace.”

“And it’s not a secret that he’s gay, too. His best friend's Wooyoung. And Wooyoung’s also gay.”

San raised his eyes like he had been caught red-handed like a child doing something bad when his friends turned theirs to him, waiting for him to explain himself.

“Well, I’m not saying they’re gay together. I mean that they’re gay, but not together. Well, they’re friends. And gay. And that’s not a secret. Because Wooyoung says it, that’s it.”

Amused, Hongjoong lightly nudged him with his elbow.

“Since when do you know so many stuff about Wooyoung? Is he also one of your friends?”

“No,” San simply replied with an even voice.

“You’ve seen him kiss a boy?” Seonghwa asked.

“No,” the boy repeated, tightening his plushy against him, pouting.

“So, how do you know?”

San opened his mouth, then closed it, then opened it again to close it once more. After a few seconds of that game, he looked at Hongjoong, then at Seonghwa, before standing up and silently leaving, his nose in the air.

Both of them were left speechless, exchanging a skeptical glance.

“I don’t know what’s weirder, not knowing what’s he’s hiding or the fact he’s able to hide something from us,” Seonghwa stated.

Hongjoong choked down a nervous laugh.

“He’ll spit it out… it’s San we’re talking about.”

Seonghwa automatically got his hand sanitizer to clean them, before running them through his friend’s hair, in a comforting and maternal gesture.

“You really like him, huh?”

Hongjoong felt his eyes sting again when he realized they were not talking about San anymore, and a strangled “yes” came out of his dry mouth.

“You know, when we started dating, with Yeosang… he told his mother really quickly, without me. He showed her a picture of us, and his first worry was that my parents wouldn’t react the same way she did. I don’t know if she really accepts gay people or if she cares too much about her son to question his choices, but the truth is, without her, it would’ve been way harder for us. We were so young, still in high school, and I knew my parents wouldn’t be too thrilled about this.”

Hongjoong loudly sniffled. Being aware of what was coming next in the story, he already knew how Yeosang’s mother had been a rare gem.

“I didn’t want him to be the only one to know about the fear of coming out, so I ended up telling my parents, too. You know what’s next…”

Indeed, he knew it. His mother had left in the kitchen sobbing, and his father had punched the table. They had agreed to pay for the college dorm’s rent for their son, at the condition he would not come back to their house and would never show up to family reunions with his boyfriend. The remaining of the year, Seonghwa had studied for his exams at Yeosang’s mother’s place, who had given him food and a roof until he moved in his own apartment, only asking for him to make her son happy. Seonghwa had indeed never known if she had been an ally from the beginning, or if it was knowing about how psychologically unstable Yeosang was that had pushed her to entirely get used to her son’s choices, to the point of completely going back over the social constructs she had been taught, but he had been very grateful.

“Without making any value judgment, Hongjoong, you, at this point, you can’t do anything for Jongho.”

“Without you petting my hair, these words would’ve been harder to swallow,” Hongjoong pointed out, trying to hide the way his heart had twisted in his chest.

“I can’t be anything but honest with you, right now. You would’ve looked smart if he’d ended up on the streets or a hospital bed, completely isolated when you don’t even have enough money to feed yourself. He can’t depend on you, and if you two want to build something, he needs to get out of that situation first.”

“That’s why I told him we should stop now.”

“It’s not what I mean,” Seonghwa murmured, the softest way possible.

Hongjoong nervously wiped the tip of his nose, snuffling again.

“He believes in you enough to risk it all for you. But he’s not an idiot to the point of wanting to ruin his own life, and probably a part of yours. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t be dying of guilt if he were to stop swimming for you.”

Hongjoong stayed silent.

“In your case, it’s also a proof of love for him to pretend you’re his friend to his father. It’s a proof of love that he wants to hide you to protect you and still agrees to spend time with us, at the club or outside, to be open with you when he can. I think that you know, deep down, that he's not trying to gaslight you.”

“I’m scared,” the other eventually timidly admitted, letting himself fall against Seonghwa’s shoulder, who naturally wrapped his arm around his shoulders.

“It’s okay to be scared. If you weren’t, I would’ve told you you’re dumb.”

Hongjoong choked down a giggle.

“What would really be dumb, would be to ignore to what extent you both attract each other like magnets, in such little time.”

“And what if… in the end… it doesn’t work out?”

“Well, it doesn’t work out. Is that better than wondering all your life what if it had worked out?”

Hongjoong bit his lip, staying silent. They stayed snuggled against each other for a little while. The street lights lit up on the campus, to prevent students from getting lost in the darkness of fall, and Yeosang eventually came out of his late optional class. He scurried to his boyfriend, raising himself on the tip of his toes to kiss him once he was up – and his hands cleaned after touching Hongjoong’s hair. The latter lowered his eyes to avoid disrupting their intimacy, a little awkward before Yeosang grabbed his arm.

“Looks like I missed something?”

While Seonghwa was left to update him on the news, Hongjoong, stuck between them like they were his adoptive parents, felt his heart warm up, grateful, and reassured.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> aaah that's over for now but don't worry I'm pretty sure the third chapter will come sooner than this one because of the quarantine haha
> 
> you can hmu on twitter @jonghtoast and read phil's work (my beloved translator) Obsidian Skies and many other cool ateez fics @etoilephilante !!!
> 
> thanks a lot for reading, I really hope it still pleases you, you can leave kudos or even a comment to tell me what you think ;;;
> 
> kisses and hugs


	3. Behind the Reflection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongho did earn Hongjoong's trust, in the end. Their relationship is still not easy, but they keep on being more and more creative in order to make it work, despite everything that seem to try to stop them.
> 
> In the same time, Mingi's mood starts to get bad, and Hongjoong starts to guess things about all of his friends, especially San and Wooyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi everyone!!!!!!!!! First of all, I'd like to APOLOGIZE, actually I thought slow posting would be Phil's fault (this story is french and he's translating it) but in fact it's totally mine. The whole translation is over by now, I just have to post it. I just didn't for a long time because I had to work and to take care of myself, my family and stuff, and totally forgot about the fact that this wasn't finished T-T
> 
> Anyway, now it's there!!! I will post the last part very very soon I promise, and then the bonus part 5, I hope you still enjoy the story, we're not far from the end now!!!!
> 
> Thanks for reading me haha enjoy!!!!

*

“What did you tell your parents to stay out tonight?”

  
  


“That I was hanging out with the club, and that I’d take advantage of it by getting to know my opponents’ weaknesses, some bullshit of the kind,” Jongho answered, rolling his eyes at the poorness of the excuse he had served his father up.

  
  


The most infuriating about it was perhaps that it had worked without any issue.

  
  


“I mean, it’s not that wrong,” Hongjoong breathed out, “Yeosang just sent me a picture of Mingi’s underwear.”

  
  


“Oh, really?”

  
  


Jongho immediately leaned forward, frowning above his shoulder. Hongjoong held back a chuckle and stretched his arm out so his phone would be out of sight. The deserted street behind the movie theater was about large enough for a small game of chase, yet Hongjoong didn't scamper too far away, and very quickly, he was caught by a pouting Jongho’s arms.

  
  


“Do you really want to keep Mingi’s underwear for yourself this much?”

  
  


“What about you, do you really want to see Mingi’s underwear this much?”

  
  


“Okay, let’s stop saying the words ‘underwear’ and ‘Mingi’ in the same sentence for the remaining of the evening.”

  
  


“I don’t see the issue with saying ‘Mingi’s underwear _’…_ ”

  
  


Jongho shook Hongjoong in his arms with a whine of protest.

  
  


“Are you jealous?” Hongjoong suddenly realized, widening his cat-like eyes.

  
  


“I’m not,” Jongho groaned, immediately burying his face in his neck, probably to hide a blush.

  
  


The red-haired boy didn't come to the training sessions anymore. He had begrudgingly announced that he had reorganized his work timetable at the theater to be in charge of an earlier shift in the evening, under Seonghwa’s sympathetic smile, Yunho’s crestfallen and sad pout, and Mingi’s desperate scream. He had only told Seonghwa and Yeosang, but he was scared of Jongho’s father. If he didn't keep his mind busy by working during the hour he usually spent at the pool, he knew he wouldn't be able to keep himself from thinking about Jongho, and about the vast turquoise pool that pacified him so much. Sacrificing his alone time had been heartbreaking, all the more so as when there were people in the pool complex, he would use it to catch up on classes he had missed. Jongho had waited two weeks before giving in and meeting him at the theater just like he had done a few weeks before, right after his classes. They had barely interacted ever since their quarrel, or at least not alone, because Jongho and Wooyoung ate lunch almost every day with the small group now. Wooyoung got along exceptionally well with Yeosang, to San’s annoyance since he didn't understand anything at all about the modern artists’ names that were being uttered around him, while Yeosang was passionately hanging on Wooyoung’s every word whenever he summed his classes up.

  
  


Paradoxically, it had been harder for Jongho to be comfortable with the others, probably because he had known them for a year now, as he had been training with them since his last year of high school, but had never approached them before. His discreet and burgeoning relationship with Hongjoong hadn't helped either, neither one nor the other knowing where they stood with the other guys for a few days, until the moment Hongjoong, in the middle of a sentence, had determinedly caught Jongho’s hand, while he was nervously playing with his fork. They had gotten a high-pitched whistle from a boundlessly satisfied Mingi, immediately attacked by one of Seonghwa’s aluminum balls, tossed by Yeosang – who was better at aiming – under his orders. Wooyoung had laughed at their group mechanism’s effectiveness since no one let anything slip past them, and every information went at the speed of lightas if they were all in tune with each other.

  
  


“Jealous of Mingi?”

  
  


“’m not jealous.”

  
  


But his voice was muffled by Hongjoong’s sweater, and he turned around in Jongho’s clasp to force him to look at him.

  
  


“Jongho?”

  
  


He pouted.

  
  


“It’s just… you both look… close? And he always acts like he wants to protect you from the entire world. It’s just… I’ve been wondering if there’s ever something between you two.”

  
  


Hongjoong left a fleeting kiss on his lips, as if to shut him up, while Jongho’s big black eyes finally met his, pleading.

  
  


“Mingi has a lot of issues, but thankfully, an affair with me isn’t one of them.”

  
  


“You’re not an iss-”

  
  


“Let me speak,” Hongjoong mumbled, unable to hold his fond smile back. “He’s very attached to his friends, even if he doesn’t want to tell us why. He found me when I was in a pathetic state, even thinner than now, and I wasn’t talking to anyone. I think he’s just scared I’m gonna end up at the hospital, and it worries him. But he’s always seen me as some kind of brother, maybe he wishes he could say a younger brother, even if he’s the kid. Next time, pay attention to the way he acts when he’s around Yunho, you’re gonna change your mind right away.”

  
  


Jongho furrowed his brows, looking deep in thought.

  
  


“Oh.”

  
  


“There you go.”

  
  


“I see.”

  
  


Silence fell upon the couple, cottony and pleasant. Hongjoong raised himself on the tip of his toes to bump his nose to Jongho’s, round like one of a kitten, who initiated a series of strokes on his back, supposed to maintain him pressed against him.

  
  


“By the way, do you know what’s going on with Wooyoung and San?”

  
  


Jongho arched an eyebrow.

  
  


“Ruining the mood, is it revenge?”

  
  


Hongjoong snickered.

  
  


“Of course not, it just crossed my mind, because we’re talking about the guys. San’s been weird for a while, and it looks like it has to do with Wooyoung. But I’ve never seen him anywhere else than alone with you, he’s your best friend, right?”

  
  


“Yeah, he’s the only close friend I have,” the swimmer nodded. “We became closer when we realized the both of us were… not too close with our families. I know he leaves his house every evening to hang around, but from what I know, he doesn’t stay out the whole night and never talked about San, even if they know each other.”

  
  


“Okay, that doesn’t help us much.”

  
  


A kiss answered him as if to make him feel better.

  
  


“Sorry.”

  
  


This time, it was hands in hands that they went to Hongjoong’s place, Jongho sometimes playing with the smaller’s rings, turning them between his fingers, before intertwining them again with his. Only when they reached their destination, the swimmer pulled Hongjoong in his thick arms back, to let him bury his head in his neck. The boy closed his eyes and let himself be lulled the other’s strokes on the base of his neck, surrounded by the odor of caramel cookies and jeans that had been worn for a few days. He held an annoyed sigh and a flinch back when he realized he probably smelled like bleach, a bit musty and like raw tobacco, but a voice derailed his train of thought immediately:

  
  


“I missed you,” Jongho whispered before kissing his boyfriend’s ear.

  
  


Hongjoong snuggled a little against him before muttering with a hesitant voice:

  
  


“If your father thinks you’re out… do you want to go up with me?”

  
  


He heard very clearly the way Jongho noisily gulped and snorted.

  
  


“You’re not gonna feel uncomfortable?” he hesitated.

  
  


Hongjoong shrugged.

  
  


“You saved me from drowning, after all…”

  
  


An offended squeak muffled the end of his sentence.

  
  


“I… Hongjoong! That’s low, you very well know that I-”

  
  


“Shut up and come on up,” the person of interest cut him off with an angelic smile.

  
  


  
  


*****

  
  


  
  


“ _Remember what I told you? You’re beautiful, Hongjoong.”_

  
  


“ _Stop…”_

  
  


“ _No. You’re beautiful.”_

  
  


  
  


“You look really terrible,” the small boy teased before cheerfully sitting down next to a visibly comatose Mingi, sprawled on his seat in the lecture hall.

  
  


“Mmh,” was all he managed to obtain, and it was enough for him.

  
  


Beside him, Yunho looked in a better state, but his eyes lost in the vague, and his purple eye bags vouched for the fact that he would probably not be much more efficient. For once that Hongjoong was the one ready to take notes, he told himself that it was for the best.

  
  


  
  


_While he was struggling with his keyhole, he did_ _n't see Jongho go_ _further in what could be called a living room. His apartment consisted of a vague doorway with a closet, immediately after entering there was his bed, and a door leading to shower stall on the other side. He had put a coffee table and an ottoman near the window, and his nightstand was covered with earrings, rings, lighters, and loose sheets. He had only decorated a part of his wall with a few postal cards that had nothing written on their back_ _s_ _, just to dream a little, two polaroids pictures recently taken with his friends, and a card from an exhibition Mingi had gone to during a trip with his parents, the only one that had something on its back. A message written in all caps, of course._

  
  


_Hongjoong turned around to see Jongho lean forward to_ look at the cluster of pictures, smiling to himself.

  
  


“ _Sorry, it’s a mess…”_

  
  


“ _Not at all, it’s your home, I like it.”_

  
  


  
  


Their lecture, despite all of Hongjoong's willingness, seemed never-ending to them all. San was wiggling on his seat like a cut-off worm, to the extent that their lecturer went as far as to ask him if he needed to go to the toilets – Hongjoong only had enough time to rush to put his hand over his mouth before he could retort back that “ _no, it’s just that it’s boring.”_ Seonghwa had muffled Yunho’s snores with his scarf, and Mingi had settled with staring at the blackboard with the emptiest eyes he could muster. They all parted at the end of the class – a trip to the toilets (Yeosang and Seonghwa), a recon squad sent to save them a spot for lunch (San and Yunho), and the hasty smokers, Mingi nonchalantly following Hongjoong to the building’s entrance. The taller man wasn’t a smoker, but his friend easily guessed that there was something that the former wanted to privately talk about.

  
  


“Have you ever, let's say, come to learn a piece of information that you haven’t been told whether you should keep it for yourself or not, and you absolutely need to talk about it not to explode while knowing full well that it’s probably a bad idea?”

  
  


Hongjoong calmly blew his smoke at his face.

  
  


“So specific, it gave me chills, it’s almost as if I was in your shoes.”

  
  


Mingi rubbed his nape, nervous.

  
  


“Yunho, yesterday night, he was drunker than ever, and he told me something… I don’t think he remembers. But I do remember, and I really don’t think I should know about it, but now I don’t know what to do about it.”

  
  


“Something… serious?”

  
  


“Yeah.”

  
  


Mingi paused, while Hongjoong did his best not to bombard him with questions.

  
  


“I can’t tell you… I’m sorry, I look like an idiot. But it’s better that I keep it for myself, he probably forgot he told me. It’s just… how do you help a friend who doesn’t want to accept his past when you know something like this?

  
  


Hongjoong came closer to his friend to softly bump his shoulder against his arm.

  
  


“You act like you don’t know… Until he’s ready to talk about it with us. Or until you feel it’s the right time to talk about it. You lay the groundwork, subtly, so he feels like he can trust you. I don’t know how hard it can be, and I’m not going to make you tell me – I just hope I’ll be able to know one day.”

A sad and sorry pout was painted on Mingi’s face, and Hongjoong immediately hated it. It wasn’t like his friend to be curled up on himself with his gaze down, uncertain and withdrawn. He almost suddenly wanted to extract from him all his recount of the night before, to shake him until his teeth rattled so he would finally fight back, even if it meant getting yelled at; at least it would have looked more like Mingi’s usual behavior. But he held himself back and did nothing, forcing himself to respect his friend’s comfort zone, swallowing back how worried he was for Yunho as well.

  
  


It wasn't easy to get to know Yunho, despite the big teddy bear looking boy’s obvious kindness. He was considerate, likable, and always in a good mood, but he sometimes had a hard time staying focused on only one thing or matter, which sometimes required a lot of patience from other people. They often found themselves forced to repeat the same words over again, or bounce back on a completely unexpected and off-topic remark; Hongjoong had found it very complicated to listen to San and Yunho talk together, as well. He didn't know what could have pushed him to confide in Mingi, even when very drunk, but it was probably something tragically important, and to disturb the giant this much, it was surely not anything pleasant. Which naturally made Hongjoong want to scream.

  
  


“Act like I don’t know anything… I can try.”

  
  


Nobody was blind enough to ignore the apparent feelings Mingi nourished for the adorable scatterbrain since probably high school, but considering that Yunho only revealed himself on few and rare occasions, it was clear that it would still be a long ride.

  
  


“If he told you once, I’m sure he’ll find a way to come back to you,” Hongjoong smiled, “for now, don’t get yourself all worked up. There’s nothing you can do, so be patient. One day, it’s gonna be the right time.”

  
  


Mingi gave him a sincere smile, not one full of teeth with his eyes almost closed as usual, but a simple tug of lips, full of a lot more feelings than usual. It was weird that they had become this friendly, and in a way, Hongjoong could understand Jongho’s grumbles. He had felt in Mingi an absolute and almost frightening trust for him, sudden and unswerving. He had chosen each one of his friends for specific reasons, but he leaned on Hongjoong more than on anyone else, valuing his peculiar background to give him pieces of advice with more hindsight, more experience. Maybe was it why he always helped him with so much care, especially with their classes; as if to pay back an imaginary debt he thought he owed him when in Hongjoong’s point of view, it was him who owed him. Mingi, out of curiosity, had given him everything overnight, had helped him to open himself up to the world, and had helped him to look for self-confidence that he had thought lost forever. For the taller man, the fact that Hongjoong worked outside of classes, was two years older than them (only a year than Seonghwa who had changed his degree in the middle of his course) and had spent most of his life alone, was a source of richness and new considerations that never ended to fascinate him. He had encouraged him to assert himself, to share, to believe in his own uniqueness. In the time span of only a year, Mingi had become for him what looked the most like a best friend, and Hongjoong especially hated to see this dejection in his puppy eyes.

  
  


“Aren’t you with Jongho?” Seonghwa asked surprised when he saw them jog back, sitting as usual between Yeosang and San.

  
  


Hongjoong barely had the time to answer that he saw Wooyoung arrive – alone – at the same time and give them an apologetic pout, seemingly taking too much care in ignoring San’s eagerness to make space for him on the bench.

  
  


“His coach is making him stay an hour longer today.”

  
  


  
  


_They had talked for a few minutes, about nothings, about the stories behind the pictures hanged on the wall and about the fact that_ _Hongjoong would probably have to pierce his ears again if he wanted to wear this many steel jewels on them; before a glance, longer than the others turned into an inflamed kiss that quickly led them against the living room’s wall. The thirst they had for each other and the flagrant lack of each other’s presence that had gnawed away at them for days could be felt in Jongho’s fists grabbing at Hongjoong’s hair; and in the eagerness of the latter’s hands to sneak under the clothes they found, impatient to find the satin-soft feeling of the swimmer’s golden skin_ _again_ _. Their breaths blended in a panting mess as Jongho let a shaking Hongjoong unbuckle his belt._

  
  


“ _What are you doing…” the swimmer mumbled with a hoarse voice when he saw his lover let himself fall on his knees, his eyes blacker than ever._

  
  


_Hongjoong seemed to hesitate._

  
  


“ _Don’t you want it?”_

  
_  
_

_If he did not specify the object of his question, it was evident that Jongho understood. He gulped, widening his eyes._

  
  


“ _Fuck, yes.”_

  
  


_Hongjoong cracked an ecstatic grin._

  
  


  
  


“Can I… still eat with you all?” Wooyoung timidly asked, staying at a good distance from the table, making an annoyed San narrow his eyes.

  
  


Mingi raised his eyes to heaven, forcing him to sit down while Seonghwa naturally handed out an energizing bar that he had initially taken for Jongho.

  
  


Pink with embarrassment, Wooyoung snuggled next to San to silently eat his snack, while the latter finally sported a satisfied air. Seonghwa and Hongjoong shared an amused glance, observing their little game become clearer.

  
  


“Thank you,” he muttered, meeting the red-haired boy’s gaze, who was watching the scene unfold with a fondness that was slowly taking over his scathing disappointment, due to the fact that his whole body and soul felt like they were hitching toward Jongho.

  
  


  
  


“ _You’re not sleeping, right?” Hongjoong teased with a mocking smirk when in reality, he only wished to fall asleep like this, in boxers and a large T-shirt, spooned by Jongho’s intoxicating warmth._

  
  


_A tremor of laughter answered him. He closed his eyes, squeezing his eyelids shut with all his strength until he could see luminous spots as if to resist to his own racing heart. Both boys were somehow nestled on the messy sheets of his tiny bed, Hongjoong was now wrapped in arms that weren’t ready to let him go. He was waiting for the time that would inexorably come for Jongho to go catch the last train in the near subway station to go home, and thus leave him again._

  
  


_This unpleasant thought was nipped in the bud by a hand slipped under his T-shirt, a new sensation that almost made him jump._

  
  


“ _Sorry, I...” Jongho whispered, immediately taking his touch back._

  
  


“ _No, it’s okay.”_

  
  


_And Hongjoong took his palm in his to lead it to his own abdomen. He had kept this strange habit of keeping his shirt with his one-night-stands, which, after all, had never kept him from spending a good night, so, to let Jongho graze him from this close made him violently shiver. The swimmer shyly let his fingers wander on his body while he was almost holding his breath, gasping when Jongho stopped on a round scar, that he circled with his pointer finger as if to try to understand what it was._

  
  


“ _Cigarette burns,” Hongjoong admitted in a low voice._

  
  


“ _Who did this to you?” Jongho asked with an even voice after a short silence._

  
  


“ _Myself.”_

  
  


_The swimmer’s hands didn't stop moving like he was encouraging him to continue whenever he would be ready._

  
  


“ _My mom never earned_ _enough_ _money to help us, me, my sister, and her sister. We didn’t eat much, and I was the anxious type, I barely could handle hunger in the evening. I needed to hurt myself to ignore_ _that_ _my stomach was rumbling, so I smoked to suppress my hunger and put the_ _cigarettes_ _out… like this. I stopped ever since I left to work and study in the city.”_

  
  


_Jongho did_ _n't reply, probably that there was_ _n't_ _anything to say. He settled with squeezing Hongjoong against himself as if the smallest space between could split them apart sooner._

  
  


  
  


“Do you want a smoke?” he muttered for Yeosang, who nodded before arching a brow.

  
  


“Aren’t you smoking it?”

  
  


“Don’t wanna.”

  
  


  
  


_They kissed until they lost their sanity on the deserted platform before they were interrupted by the wagon’s automated doors. Jongho moved away from Hongjoong before coming back just as soon to get one last kiss and then running without looking back to jump inside the train. The ruby boy stayed a few seconds, a few minutes after it left, with the persistent memory of Jongho’s gaze on him as he was taken away further and faster. The air suddenly seemed so cold to him, and his sight so foggy; every step to go home was a struggle. When his apartment’s door slammed behind him, and he let himself fall on his sheets, that still smelled like the swimmer, Hongjoong couldn't keep himself from sniffling before muffling his wails in his pillow. He himself didn't know why, but he sobbed like a child for a dozen minutes, before slipping in a dreamless slumber; at the very least, was it restful._

  
  


  
  


*****

  
  


  
  


Jongho was not a lot taller than Hongjoong, but intertwining his fingers with his always made the latter feel like he was supported, held by something firm, surrounded and protected like he was wearing an armor. He was the mooring line of his ship, that kept him from drifting in the city’s grayish-blue, to anchor him in his arms and stop the world from spinning for a few tiny eternities. He could have felt out of his depths in this relationship that made his head spin, but it actually offered him a landmark, the light from a beacon in the middle of the night during which he had gotten into the habit of wandering, instead of sleeping in his nightmares. He had eventually understood that he was far from being the object of Jongho’s pity, assuming a similar role in a kind of return. He had told Hongjoong that he had set him free, that he was different from his world, a breath of fresh air, a new oasis to explore and to use as a shelter when the world was too heavy to handle. As their confidence in their relationship was getting bigger within their souls, Hongjoong carried by Seonghwa’s encouraging words and by Jongho, who didn't keep himself from smiling until his cheeks would hurt whenever he looked at the small ruby; they were also less and less cautious.

  
  


Thus, when Jongho wasted no time in sneaking out an evening he knew his parent were out, to wait for Hongjoong at the theater’s exit with a thermos full of hot chocolate, they didn't bother with going in a deserted back alley to hide before they threw themselves into each other’s arms. Hongjoong wasn't aware that the swimmer would be coming this evening. His gaze clouded with fatigue made him notice his presence only after he had blown his first drag of smoke at the exit. He immediately put out the cigarette he had just lit in the nearest ashtray to start running, crossing the cobblestones of the pedestrian street to hang himself at his neck, almost making them both fall backward in a burst of laughter that should have looked ridiculous. Hongjoong felt like he was flying, without really knowing if it was because Jongho was able to carry him against him with only one hand, the thermos bottle in his other hand, or if it was only a physical metaphor of what he felt with more and more intensity each time.

  
  


“You should’ve warned me,” he, however, complained, his gleaming smile contradicting with the tone he used as he fondly gazed up at him when he was back on his feet.

  
  


“If you’re gonna react like this at every surprise, I won’t ever warn you of anything ever again,” Jongho retorted before he rubbed their noses together, handing the thermos to Hongjoong.

  
  


Hongjoong choked on a sip of hot chocolate even though he had wanted to hold the swimmer’s gaze, offended.

  
  


“I thought you were tapering, it must be tiring to come all the way here to surprise me, idiot…”

  
  


“Resting before the competition doesn’t mean staying in bed, staring at the ceiling eight hours a day. I missed you too much,” Jongho said with a smirk and sparkly eyes.

  
  


Hongjoong ran a hand through his bangs, as red as his cheeks.

  
  


“When you win, we’re gonna have all the time in the world for that… you promised, don’t play dumb.”

  
  


The swimmer’s face became serious, and he rushed to pull his boyfriend against himself again. His nose crushed against the thick fabric of his sweater that smelled like orange-flavored cookies, Hongjoong felt lighter, despite his apparent lack of enthusiasm (which had been discredited by his sprint when he had seen Jongho). He tried hard to believe that if they didn't see each other a lot, it was for a good cause and that all these efforts would only lead them to a future for their relationship, and Jongho’s fulfillment in college, far away from his father. Above the constant lack of each other’s presence, could be added to the stress of having lost his alone times at the pool, as well as the evenings spent watching the swimming team’s training. Hongjoong hadn't, weirdly enough, spent this much time alone for a long time, too tired by work anyway to hang out with Mingi and the others after, and he knew Jongho was aware of it. It was probably the reason he had decided to make this sacrifice for him – but if they had to go through hardships, Hongjoong had to at least give them a meaning. He felt terrified by the simple idea that Jongho could fail at the regional competitions, that would take place in less than two weeks. Tapering was a period during which swimmers reduced their training to focus on more important resting times, aiming to erase the negative effects of intensive training. If the college’s swimming club didn't train like professional swimmers, it was Jongho’s case and of his two training sessions every day. So Hongjoong had no hard time believing that all this free time was too much for him, even though, from what he had understood one day at lunch, Wooyoung made the most of it by drawing nudes using his best friend as a model. This piece of information had made San blush for the first time in his life, while Hongjoong had almost spilled his coffee, taken over by laughter when he imagined the scene.

  
  


The thought crossing his mind again, he brought his face out of Jongho’s chest, intending on whispering in his ear that he obviously wanted to see Wooyoung’s sketches, when a voice he didn't recognize stopped him in his track:

  
  


“Jongho? What are you doing here?”

  
  


The person of interest practically froze on his spot when he heard the feminine voice that called out for him. His whole body tensed with anxiety, he didn't move his gaze away from Hongjoong, who cast a glance behind him and frowned, his lips pinched in a white line.

  
  


“Don’t panic, trust me.”

  
  


“What?”

  
  


Jongho didn't have the spare time to get an answer to his question that an impressive slap landed on his cheek. He couldn't process that it really was _his_ Hongjoong that had just hit him that the smaller boy’s voice echoed in the street, louder than he had ever heard him:

  
  


“Do you really think nobody saw you make out with Yeri every time you can?”

  
  


The swimmer opened his eyes so wide that both boys wondered if they might fall out their sockets.

  
  


“You play dead every time we call you because all you care about is your fucking competition and fucking that bitch?”

  
  


As Jongho’s jaw was seriously threatening to fall on the ground, Hongjoong hit him again on his arm, whispering very quickly:

  
  


“Come on, do something, improvise!”

  
  


And then, he resumed his act, impressively enough that Jongho’s mother was speechless, a few meters away, soon joined by her husband, who was watching the scene unfold with raised eyebrows. Coming back to his senses, Jongho shook his head, grabbing Hongjoong’s shoulders, doing his best to really look aggressive without hurting him.

  
  


“Let it go, okay? I don’t have anything to tell you or to do with you, so stop following me around, keep on imagining stuff away from me!”

  
  


Under messy red strands, Hongjoong cracked a mischievous grin, before he violently – to all appearances – struggled out of Jongho’s grasp. The latter kept on cursing at him more explicitly, made enraged by the impression that he was talking to his father, rather than to his lover, who was saving him from this situation in the smartest way.

  
  


“ _I’m here to win, I don’t wanna see you ever again, get out of my life!_ ”

  
  


A second slap burned his cheek, Hongjoong repressing the satisfying way he felt like a movie character, but not knowing what he was feeling anymore. It was like he had left his body, watching the scene unfold under his eyes as if he wasn't one of the actors. He easily guessed that the fleeting wetness of Jongho’s eyes wasn't caused by the slap, since he shared his disgust for the slanders that they were throwing without listening to each other speaking. His heart broke, but he felt exhilarated when he cast a defiant glare at Jongho’s father, before he stopped the fight, turning around and walking away. If he gave the impression that he had lost this battle, it was to win the war better.

  
  


“ _Good night, Yeri_ ,” Jongho sent him, the same evening, and Hongjoong burst out in laughter, sipping the remaining of his hot chocolate in the thermos that he had forgotten to give back.

  
  


  
  


*****

  
  


  
  


He had never been this motivated to catch up with the delay he had taken on his studies ever since he had to absolutely keep himself from thinking. Hongjoong, usually collapsed from exhaustion when he went home the whole semester, before waking up, panicked, the last two weekends before finals week. He had always been lucky to be able to count on Mingi, who gave him his own notes and Seonghwa, who quizzed him, encouraged by San’s cuddles and Yunho’s cups of coffee (Yeosang was even nice sometimes). He had always seen relationships, and even more so, the idea of falling in love, as a waste of time, something that would intrude in his already busy daily life; but as he forced himself not to think about Jongho, he was more productive than ever.

  
  


“You… Hongjoong…”

  
  


Yunho was pointing at him with a shaky finger and a terrified face.

  
  


“What?”

  
  


The boy felt himself shiver, the thought crossing his mind that Yunho was phobic of spiders and that there might be one in his hair. He jumped on his spot, rubbing his head, worried.

  
  


“Hongjoong, oh my god…”

  
  


“WHAT?”

  
  


“You made… flashcards?”

  
  


The young man threw his pencil case at his friend’s head, who was already laughing his head off, followed by an as loud Mingi as ever. Hongjoong put a vexed pout on his face, and caught San’s arm, pretending to hide with a dignified air. His friend returned his clasp by digging his nails in his skin; Hongjoong noticed that San was watching Jongho and Wooyoung who were entering the building. While he was stunned by the boy’s reaction, as if he was terrified by Wooyoung (which wasn't coherent with his previous deductions), his train of thought was interrupted by Jongho, who brutally grabbed his arm to drag him a few meters away, behind a coffee machine, near a staircase, away from the others’ stares. The swimmer’s grip that had replaced San’s one, made Hongjoong’s skin sting, he pulled a pained face and was about to protest before he found himself with his face in Jongho’s sweatshirt, rendered captive and mute. It took him a few seconds to realize Jongho grasped more at him than he was holding him against himself as if he was shaking.

  
  


“Jongho… Jongho?” Hongjoong muttered, uncertain on how to act.

  
  


A sniffle answered him.

  
  


“Jongho, what’s going on…” he asked, brushing his hand against his back, hoping to reassure him with his touches.

  
  


“You don’t deserve this,” his boyfriend eventually stammered, with a small voice.

  
  


“Don’t deserve what?”

  
  


A few seconds went by again before Hongjoong got an answer.

  
  


“Me.”

  
  


There was a moment of silence before the small ruby haired boy felt a revolted shiver shake him, and he snuggled closer against Jongho. All of a sudden, the world was freezing, and the air was clawing at his face if it wasn’t his lover’s breath against his skin. This nervous breakdown wasn't like him, but it wasn't like a break up either; so Hongjoong waited patiently, in their makeshift shelter, for Jongho to speak his mind.

  
  


“I’m tired of hiding, we shouldn’t ever have started to begin with. Tonight, I’ll go home and tell the truth to dad,” he mumbled in the other one’s pale green sweater.

  
  


“Nonsense,” Hongjoong dryly stated, “there’s no way I’ll let you do that.”

  
  


“And there’s no way we have to curse at each other again.”

  
  


Jongho had barely finished his sentence that it was drowned out by a sob. He took a deep breath, raising his head to look at the ceiling, hoping to calm down.

  
  


“I don’t deserve what you did for me, and-”

  
  


“Jongho, you’re not swimming, right now. Stop talking about deserving as if I were a medal that you cheated to win.”

  
  


Hongjoong was tiptoeing to be able to stroke Jongho’s hair, wishing to slow down his breath made erratic by anxiety and guilt like so. His voice wasn't reproachful in the slightest when he continued talking.

  
  


“You fought for me, you came to get me, you caught me and protected me… And you don’t have any idea how better you made my life.”

  
  


He did his best to keep his voice even, to keep on being the shoulder on which the swimmer could lean, for once that it was the latter that needed him to regain his footing. It was odd to see that Jongho needed, for the first time, words that Hongjoong had never told ever since they had met, content with accepting Jongho in his space when he asked to come in. It was out of place to see him so small, holding his tears back in his arms, two seconds away from giving up and letting everything go; it was unusual because it implied an absolute trust, the certainty that Hongjoong would be here to catch him, to help him up. To whisper in his ear the words he needed, that felt as comforting as hiding under your blanket to feel safe. The swimmer was now completely leaning on him, his eyes closed, his forehead pressed against his shoulder, making them almost the same height.

  
  


“I’m sorry, ‘joong.”

  
  


“Listen, I know that you felt like you forced me to accept this relationship, but it’s not true. Jongho, this scholarship is important to you, swimming is important to you, and you’re important to me. I thought that if I committed to this for you, it would be a waste of time, but it’s not true. I want to see you, I want to eat better, I want to study for my classes to spend time together without worrying about anything else, I want you to spend time with us on the campus so the boys can help you study for your finals if you need it, because you must succeed, we must keep on fighting. Because we must stay together.”

  
  


Jongho, probably shocked, took a few seconds, almost a full minute, to raise his head to dive his gaze into Hongjoong’s, finding there all the honesty he still needed to believe in the words he had just been offered. The smaller cracked a smile, despite feeling like he was losing his footing with how his heart was threatening to shatter the bones of his ribcage. He put his palms on each side of Jongho’s face, spreading his fingers like the feathers of a bird ready to take off, before whispering in a reedy voice:

  
  


“Because I love you.”

  
  


Under other circumstances, he would have made fun of the way Jongho’s eyes almost fell out their sockets, but at this moment, he barely had any time to process anything that his lips were already against his. Their kiss didn’t taste like salt like it could have been described in a dramatic novel; there wasn't anything different from their usual kisses, and that was exactly what made it so special. They were pressed against the coffee machine without holding each other up anymore, melted together like a single entity of reds and golds, giving into what was now more normal than anything between them, but this time puffed up with the certainty that they would do anything to keep it that way.

  
  


  
  


*****

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can follow me on twitter @jonghtoast but I'm not very active those days, I can become active again if I know safe people there, especially fanfic writers so don't hesitate to hmu!!
> 
> Also, don't forget to thank phil's work @mingiopom on the translation T-T thank you a loooot!!!
> 
> Please let me know if you liked this, or didn't like, by leaving kudos and comment, it would really bright my day up uwu
> 
> take care and see you soon!!


	4. Illusive Shores

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The swimming competition is finally happening, bearing the whole future of Jongho and Hongjoong's relationship. 
> 
> And just before that, San takes shelter at Hongjoong's, telling him all the truth about him and Wooyoung.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see? see? I was back in time!!!!!
> 
> I hope you didn't wait too much and that the story is still pleasing you ;;
> 
> We've come at the end of the road, and with that fourth chapter, the story will be over. For good? Nooo, there's actually an epilogue coming soon !!! The story might be over, like, the plot is resolved, but I couldn't say goodbye to my characters yet, so don't stop waiting yet :D
> 
> enjoy your reading for now!!!

*

A lovely drowsiness had just begun engulfing Hongjoong when an ear-splitting ringtone almost made him roll down the floor. Woken up with a start, he grabbed his phone while grumbling, and without even looking at the caller’s name, he picked up keeping himself from yelling at them:

  
  


“Shit, it couldn’t have waited Monday?”

  
  


“Hongjoong?” San’s quiet voice shyly called, muffled by the receiver.

  
  


The boy felt all his annoyance fade away just as fast as it had come. He thought he could make out sobs in his friend’s voice, hoarser than usual.

  
  


“San? What’s going on? Why are you calling?”

  
  


“Hey, can… Can I come at yours?”

  
  


It was immediately as if he could see San in front of him, nervously fidgeting with the hem of his sweat-shirt, looking at him in the eyes completely motionless until it made everyone feel awkward because San needed to see the slightest change of expression on other people’s faces to be able to understand what they could be feeling. That was for this reason that he never called, afraid of not seeing the person he was calling and that he hated texts without any punctuation marks or full of emojis; to him, grammar had no expression, punctuation rules were the same for everyone, but emojis were like facial expressions: they could change meaning from one person to another, and it was hard to grasp at them.

  
  


“Is everything okay?”

  
  


He didn’t get any other answer than San’s broken breath on the other end of the receiver. Guessing that he wouldn’t say anything more until he replied to his earlier question, Hongjoong sighed:

  
  


“Yeah, you can come. I’ll send you the location.”

  
  


He didn’t think to ask how his friend would come all the way to his place when almost all bus and tramway lines were over; there was something magical in San’s skills when it came to obtaining anything he wanted. He did live alone with his mother far away in the suburbs, but he had never been stopped by public transport issues, he came and went as easily in the depths of the city as in the brambles on a countryside road. Hongjoong suspected him of merely walking, given how fast he moved whenever he wasn’t forced to follow a group. Walking on the roadside, walking a bit everywhere in the middle of the night, walking while sometimes dangerously hoping to get lost. He was almost sure that San spent too much time wandering around, knowing his insomniac tendencies, his desire to stay far from crowds, and his incredible skills when it came to exploring anything, metaphorically as well as physically. He had become as skinny and almost as fit as the swimmers, by climbing trees, walls, and rooftops. Sometimes, Hongjoong wondered if San was a human being and not the result of his own imagination. In these instances, the latter only needed to drop something like, “do you think that Mingi thinks more about Yunho or you when he has a new fuck buddy? Maybe both, now that I think about it.” and the smaller boy would definitely conclude that, honestly, nobody could make San up.

  
  


When the latter eventually rang Hongjoong’s bell, the door opened to reveal the boy shivering from cold, in an oversized T-shirt, only covered with a really hideous multicolored scarf, and worn out sweatpants.

  
  


“San, what in the hell is that get-up, it’s almost fully winter…” Hongjoong mumbled, rolling his eyes, as his friend came in.

  
  


“Wooyoung usually brings a blanket,” San retorted with a thin voice.

  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


San allowed himself to sit down on Hongjoong’s bed, rubbed his nose with a violent frustration, and handed a lollipop out to his friend.

  
  


“Thank you, what’s that for?”

  
  


He bit his lips without saying anything.

  
  


Hongjoong, tired of this game, ended up sitting near San on his undone sheets that reeked of raw tobacco and rolled a cigarette.

  
  


“Let me guess. It was for Wooyoung.”

  
  


Silence answered him, but Hongjoong easily deduced that if San had called him to find a shelter at his place, instead of going home to sleep at his mom’s, it was because he already felt understood. However, he would probably not begin to explain anything without any prompting, making Hongjoong say every one of his theories out loud.

  
  


San let out a sniffle, and he curled up on himself as if he had been caught red-handed.

  
  


“And tonight, you couldn’t see each other, I’d even say he didn’t come, and you don’t know why, so you came here hoping to finally talk to someone about everything that’s been bothering you. But since you don’t want to tell me anything and you’re waiting for me to guess everything, it must be that he made you promise not to say anything. Not to say anything to anyone.”

  
  


San made a surprised squeak, and Hongjoong couldn’t hold back a slightly satisfied smirk.

  
  


“You’re quite the snitch, but promises are sacred, right?” he concluded, licking his cigarette paper.

  
  


He looked fondly at San, and the latter eventually raised his damp eyes to his friend and let himself fall into his arms, blowing his nose in his scarf. He squeezed him against himself and rocked them back and forth for a few seconds. He hoped to warm him up a little this way, unable to help him relax; Hongjoong realized well enough that if San was here, it was that things weren’t going so well.

  
  


“He wasn’t here,” San whispered, “just… not here.”

  
  


“Do you know why?”

  
  


San shook his head negatively.

  
  


“Why don’t you call him?” Hongjoong continued asking, with the most gentle voice he could muster.

  
  


Once again, the youngest shook his head in a gesture of denial.

  
  


“I don’t… have his number.”

  
  


Hongjoong frowned, skeptical.

  
  


“But how did you meet then?”

  
  


San shrugged.

  
  


“It was always the same place, each time. On Wednesdays and Fridays, he was always here, that’s it. We didn’t need to.”

  
  


“Until one of you had a mishap and couldn’t warn the other?”

  
  


San pulled himself out of Hongjoong’s hug to send him a miffed gaze, which only made him burst out in laughter, while he was lighting up his cigarette.

  
  


“How long did you wait?”

  
  


“I… not too long. I left when I saw that he wasn’t here,” he admitted, playing with his scarf.

  
  


Hongjoong gathered all the patience he could find within himself not to sharply smack San in the back like he would have done with Mingi or Yunho, before what was actually off dawned on him:

  
  


“You go scared to see that he wasn’t here? It made you doubt?”

  
  


The other boy timidly nodded. Silence fell upon them, only broken by the noise of the burning cigarette paper, and the sound of a few rare cars passing by on distant roads. The atmosphere was comfortable, everything became more lucid, despite San being a bad liar. This instance was one those strange coincidences that made you believe in destiny, where these two boys had met multiple evenings after the other, while Jongho and Hongjoong had been fighting on their own side to create their story, as if, even though they had done everything to run away from it, their worlds had been destined to blend together anyway.

  
  


“Say…”

  
  


“Yeah?”

  
  


“Do you think I’m weird?” San asked with a reedy voice, looking sheepish.

  
  


“Hell, yes,” Hongjoong sighed, sharply blowing a thick cloud of smoke.

  
  


He looked at him withdrawing onto himself from the corner of his eye and waited for him to rub his nose – a tell that tears were pooling in his eyes again – before smiling and turning his eyes towards the window.

  
  


“You’d be boring if you weren’t weird, San.”

  
  


He sensed him straighten up more abruptly than necessary, and redirect his pupils at him. Hongjoong took the time to get up to go open the window, to roll another cigarette, to play with the ash in his ashtray; taking his time to choose his words so they would reflect exactly what he meant.

  
  


“You think that me, who goes to the pool and won’t swim, expecting that there won’t ever be anyone, who sleeps around with strangers but always keeps his shirt on, I’m not weird?”

  
  


San didn’t interrupt him, visibly curious and speechless.

  
  


“Do you think that Yeosang and the stuff he keeps around aren’t weird, that Seonghwa isn’t insufferable when he stops every three meters but still wants to take care of everyone? Do you think it’s relaxing to be friends with Mingi, who’s always yelling, or with Yunho who’s only listening to us half of the time? We’re all weird, San. We’re friends because we’re weird, that’s how we found each other.”

  
  


“But…”

  
  


“There’s no level, no scale of weirdness. You’re weird just because you’re not like everyone. It’s all about perception. And that’s what makes you unique. We love you because you’re weird, San, and nobody wants you to change. If anyone wants you to believe this, leave them.”

  
  


“But,” San stammered, hiccuping again, “if Wooyoung thinks I’m weird… I…”

  
  


Hongjoong didn’t move, his jaw clenched when big crocodile tears spilled out of his friend’s eyes. He stared at him bring his knees against his chest sobbing, thinking that it was better to let him let all of his emotions out.

  
  


“I’m not sure someone who doesn’t like your weirdness would keep on meeting you in the middle of the night, twice a week, for four months, at… By the way, where do you both go?” Hongjoong suddenly asked, remembering San’s outfit and his mention of a blanket earlier.

  
  


“At the cemetery.”

  
  


Hongjoong choked on his cigarette.

  
  


“And who’s weird now? You, or the guy who keeps bringing a blanket to meet you at the cemetery in the middle of winter, and who hasn’t given his phone number to you because he knows very well that he doesn’t want to miss any of your meet-ups anyway?”

  
  


San raised his eyes towards his friend, then energetically rubbed them, like a child.

  
  


“He just wants to draw…”

  
  


Hongjoong stared at him with great exasperation.

  
  


“Okay, I understood,” San rushed to add, hiding his face under his hideous scarf, and stretching his arms out, expecting for a hug.

  
  


“Much better.”

  
  


***

  
  


It was by pulling on San’s hand, and gripping Yeosang’s arm not to lose him in the crowd, that Hongjoong finally came back at the campus’ pool, in the audience’s seats. The ambient hubbub made his ears ring, and they almost stumbled multiple times when they tried to find enough places for them all when suddenly:

  
  


“HONGJOONG, SAN, YEOSANG!”

  
  


Wooyoung’s voice quickly became ear-splitting when he screamed, but far from being noise pollution, his call was welcomed. Yeosang rushed to go down the stairs, pulling Hongjoong and San with him so rashly they almost fell down the tile stairs, and the human pile they were crashed on Wooyoung who had saved them seats. The victim of their unintentional assault let out a squeak of protest, but couldn’t hold a peal of bright laughter back when Hongjoong had to hold him by the waist – “ _it tickles!_ ” – to step over him and join the other side. Yeosang followed him, grumbling, securing a seat next to a visibly sour-tempered and unfriendly parent, Hongjoong between him and Wooyoung, and eventually San on the young artist’s other side, looking shier than ever; at least it apparently made him forget all about his fear of crowds.

  
  


They were obviously on the first row, Wooyoung must have had saved the best spots since early that morning, considering the blotches of ink on his fingers, that told them that he had been sketching in his notebooks to busy himself, unable to get all his tools out.

  
  


“I thought you would be with his parents, you must know them well,” Hongjoong mumbled, embarrassed.

  
  


“Me?”

  
  


Wooyoung burst out in bright and infectious laughter, but from which still seeped out all his stress for Jongho.

  
  


“Absolutely no way, they hate me,” he said with a light tone, winking at San, who giggled, probably in on the secret.

  
  


“What, but how…”

  
  


“A guy who wears makeup, dyes his hair, is pierced, who draws and paints? Might well just say a failure. Not to say a queer,” he sighed, losing his gaze towards the pool’s water, still smooth and clear, as if its surface was made of glass.

  
  


“Ah, I see.”

  
  


“But it suits you,” San said, puffing his cheeks out, his eyes also riveted to the water.

  
  


Wooyoung blushed so much that Yeosang couldn’t help but joke that he thought he could hear the ticking of a bomb about to blow up, and Hongjoong violently elbowed him, before speaking again, curious:

  
  


“But… I mean… are you okay?”

  
  


“As long as they don’t know I actually am, it’s okay, yeah,” the young artist quickly answered, smiling too much to be honest.

  
  


“That’s not what I meant,” Hongjoong breathed out, embarrassed that they had come this quick to matters this personal.

  
  


Not that he was surprised to know about Wooyoung’s sexuality, that San had already revealed before he had mysteriously started avoiding the topic. Hongjoong suddenly had the thought that if San had had such a hard time to keep himself from talking about it, their relationship might have been much more serious than what his friend had suggested as if he was himself unsure of Wooyoung’s feelings towards him. All of a sudden, he looked at the pool with the strong urge to throw San in it.

  
  


While they were speaking, the swimmers had started to come more or less shyly out the locker rooms, and Seonghwa took the biggest strides he could – no running on the edges of the pool – to join Yeosang and kiss him really quickly, taking his hands in his.

  
  


“Keep your fingers crossed for me, okay?” Hongjoong had the time to hear before Seonghwa knowingly winked at him.

  
  


“Good luck,” Yeosang murmured amid this electric atmosphere, and his boyfriend left just as fast to meet his team.

  
  


Yunho and Mingi seemed deep in a tactical talk with their trainer and some other participants, men or women – the women would, in fact, be the ones swimming first. Hongjoong couldn’t keep himself from looking around to find Jongho and spotted him against the guardrail as well, having a few words with two people whom he guessed were his parents. His heart twisted when he noticed how he couldn’t bring himself to look their way, probably scared to even dare to meet his eyes, and it was Wooyoung who stopped him from staring longer, bumping him with his shoulder.

  
  


“I don’t know if it can cheer you up, but I’ve never come to one of his competitions to watch him lose.”

  
  


Lost in the middle of this blue, the small – not so small, when he was sitting next to Wooyoung actually – ruby haired boy sheepishly smiled at him.

  
  


“Jongho told me about what you did the other day, to save his skin. I’m happy he’s fighting for someone like you,” the young artist eventually admitted, intimidated.

  
  


“It’s… it’s more important that he’s fighting for himself, before fighting for me…” Hongjoong stuttered.

  
  


“It’s basically the same thing, in this context, isn’t it?”

  
  


Wooyoung was smiling, while women’s races were starting. He was exuding a peaceful aura, being with him felt like being home. His smile was laid-back, and his almost excessive expressiveness made him approachable and reassuring, he looked like he knew exactly which word, which gesture to make everyone comfortable.

  
  


“And I am happy San found shelter within someone like you,” Hongjoong retorted with a mischievous wink, after making sure that the person of interest wouldn’t hear them.

  
  


“You look like a tomato with hair,” Yeosang placidly commented, barely concealing a muffled snicker.

  
  


Hongjoong noticed than even if Seonghwa had yet to start swimming, his boyfriend had both hands’ fingers crossed. So strongly, that his joints were whitening.

  
  


“That’s… it’s not… I…”

  
  


Losing all his composure, Wooyoung let out a frustrated throaty noise, before sinking further in his chair. San immediately leaned forward, looking panicked, making him blush more if it was even possible; and Hongjoong played along so well, he almost forgot why they were here.

  
  


However, the women’s races quickly came to an end, with the college from the neighboring city’s win, mainly thanks to two young women called Sunmi and Chungha. They had thrown themselves at each other’s arms, and then Chungha had rushed into her boyfriend’s arms behind the guardrail, who was handing flowers at her; Hongjoong knew his gaze was envious. The women’s races had indeed quickly come to an end, of this “quickly” that was skewed by stress and anticipation. Waiting altered time, as long as it wasn’t over, but once time had come, it had come too soon, nobody was ready, everything seemed about to blow up. It was Hongjoong’s state of mind as he could see his friends jump on the diving platforms; it could have been stupid to be this anxious for a race that wasn’t his, but too many things were in line to force himself to stay indifferent.

  
  


“They’re starting with the relay race, the whole team is participating,” Wooyoung explained to him, not holding the tremble in his voice back.

  
  


“And then?”

  
  


“Then, the races. Usually, at the Olympics, it goes as far as ten thousand meters, but regional competitions only go for four hundred. It’s only then that it gradually goes up.”

  
  


“That’s already something,” Hongjoong shivered, wondering how many _days_ it would have taken him to swim _ten thousand fucking meters_.

  
  


It was obvious that Wooyoung was calming his own anxiety down by talking, and Hongjoong felt relieved to have a voice-over to explain everything. He was already lost and anguished as it was to be left in the dark as well, having never taken an interest in any sports competition whatsoever in his whole life. Listening to Wooyoung’s voice also helped him to focus on something other than _Jongho, Jongho, Jongho._

  
  


He barely had enough time to see Yunho begin the relay swimming the backstroke, he felt Yeosang squeeze himself against him when it was Seonghwa’s turn to swim the breaststroke, he violently shivered when he saw Jongho follow up with the butterfly that he watched him practiced a long time ago already, and eventually felt a smile bloom on his lips when he saw Mingi swim faster than ever to conclude the relay.

  
  


The specialized races only brought their university one victory: Seonghwa’s, who had gotten the best score, then collapsing on the pool’s edge after swimming the breaststroke for almost eight hundred meters, each distances added up together. Yeosang had his hands pressed against his mouth, his eyes teary – even though he would never admit to it –, and San had jumped for joy, screeching.

  
  


While Yunho had just arrived only third at the backstroke race, Hongjoong was distracted by the boys’ trainer who was visibly having a very intense talk with a young man with plump lips and androgynous features whom Wooyoung introduced as Taemin, Jongho’s coach. The latter was coming closer to them frowning, while the trainer sent Mingi to the diving platforms with a sharp gesture; Taemin seemed to react very violently then.

  
  


“Wait, isn’t it the butterfly stroke race? Jongho told me it’s his specialty…”

  
  


“Yes,” Wooyoung answered with a flat voice, “but they must have switched both their registrations. Mingi was supposed to conclude the competition with the crawl, it’s his own specialty.”

  
  


“I guess… there’s nothing we can do?”

  
  


Wooyoung was staring at his friend from afar, incredibly tense, while Hongjoong’s sight was becoming blurry. He knew his friends’ entire team was excellent, and he would have been the type to cheer for Mingi, then Jongho, convinced that it wouldn’t have changed anything to the outcome of the race. But Taemin’s rage in the distance who looked like he was absolutely cursing at the club’s trainer, Jongho’s wide eyes staring at nowhere, and Wooyoung’s colorless face didn’t tell him anything good.

  
  


“The guy in the seventh line, it’s him who’s gonna win,” the young artist eventually said, trying to get his composure back, “only Jongho had better time records than him for the butterfly stroke.”

  
  


“Shit.”

  
  


Hongjoong deeply breathed in, before trying to calm down by telling himself that it would probably be enough if Jongho won his own race, for him to be able to keep his scholarship without too many objections from their university. He felt sorry for Mingi, whom he saw laugh resigned with Yunho before he put on his goggles, but the consequences would be lesser if he were the only one to lose.

  
  


Mingi lost the race, without much surprise. From afar, Hongjoong understood that he wasn’t too disappointed with himself.

  
  


“Jongho needs to win the free race with a better score than Seonghwa’s to make our team win the competition,” Wooyoung whispered, with a quiet voice.

  
  


Hongjoong forced himself to smile, even though he felt like he was about to pass out. He couldn’t even fathom how his swimmer friends could stand the pressure of rivalry, of competition at this point. Yunho was giggling near Mingi, Seonghwa was smiling, happy with his own victory even if his team could still lose, and some other students from the club were bantering around. They all looked so light as if it was all just a game, a hobby; probably was it like so that sports should be considered in the first place. None of them knew about Jongho’s actual situation beyond swimming, except for Wooyoung, who was as white as a sheet. Hongjoong briefly wondered if he wasn’t just an extremely invested supporter for his best friend, but he remembered that Jongho had told him that both of them had initially planned on joining forces to live together. The small artist probably had his own reasons to be wanting to leave the nest. He suddenly felt guilty towards Wooyoung, whom he didn’t know much but whom he knew was quite lonely, even secluded – who even found shelter in the middle of the night in a cemetery? – and to whom he had been stealing his only friend.

  
  


Taemin wrapped his arm around Jongho’s shoulders in a gesture made to be reassuring. The latter couldn’t bring himself to come closer to his teammates anymore, and Hongjoong was violently fighting his need to jump over the guardrail to throw himself into his arms.

  
  


“It’s gonna be fine, right? He’s really really fast when it comes to the crawl,” Hongjoong finally murmured, and Wooyoung replied to him with a choked squeal, while the last swimmers went up the diving platforms to begin the freestyle race.

  
  


He noticed from the corner of his eye that San was quickly grabbing onto Wooyoung’s hand, intertwining their fingers and even stroking his forearm, with his free hand. The young artist regained some colors back with his surprise and turned towards San to look at him for quite a long time, before startling when the last whistle blow resounded for the swimmers.

  
  


“What the fuck is he doing?” Yeosang exclaimed, and Hongjoong thought that his heart would stop.

  
  


Jongho had skillfully dived, to appear again at the turquoise water’s surface and noticeably ahead of his rivals, but swimming the butterfly, to the contrary of the other swimmers who were catching up to him drastically fast.

  
  


“ _There’s a race for the breaststroke, for the backstroke, the butterfly, and then a race in which you can choose, that we call the freestyle. That’s when it’s usually good to know how to swim the front crawl. That’s easier to be fast._ ”

  
  


“Why is he doing this?”

  
  


“He made a wrong start,” Wooyoung squeaked out, sounding more like a mouse than a human-being at the moment, now grasping onto San like his life was at stake.

  
  


Yeosang silently put the palm of his hand on Hongjoong’s nape, to start scratching his hair repeatedly, probably unable to think of any other way to make him feel better. He didn’t know what Yeosang did and didn’t know of the situation, but the gesture perceptibly helped the ruby haired student to focus on something else than his own short breath. He decided to close his eyes, refusing entirely to witness with his own eyes everything he had hoped for during months fall through as if they were literally drowning in this pool.

  
  


The muffled noise of the crowd became more and more distant, his ears buzzing and luminous spots dancing behind his closed eyelids, the sensation of vertigo numbing his limbs, making him lose his footing in the darkness.

  
  


“ _You too, you’re beautiful to look at.”_

  
  


“ _Red and blue match well together.”_

  
  


“ _Because I’m falling in love with you.”_

  
  


“HONGJOONG, SHIT-”

  
  


He abruptly opened his eyes, yelling with a start that almost made him fall from his seat.

  
  


“THE FUCK, WHAT?”

  
  


Yeosang was facing him, an angry and offended pout on his delicate features, and he was pointing at the diving platforms with his finger:

  
  


“You just missed out on your boyfriend’s victory, idiot!”

  
  


“What?!”

  
  


He finally dared to look towards the podium, where Jongho was getting literally drowned under a flood of applause, from male and female swimmers, Taemin covering him with a towel and energetically rubbing his hair, an undeniable pride seeping out of him. Mingi’s shrieks obviously exceeded everyone, and Jongho was even promptly lifted up in the air by the tallest swimmer of the team’s arms, his face twisted by something that was between fright, surprise, and intense and explosive joy that wholly shook Hongjoong’s heart. When their eyes locked, after avoiding each other all this time, he didn’t notice how his tears began spilling on his cheeks.

  
  


He didn’t move when Wooyoung stood up like a madman to hurtle down the few steps that kept him apart from his best friend, without letting San’s hand go, who also ran behind him, overtaken by freeing laughter. He didn’t move either when Yeosang stepped over him to join Seonghwa, Mingi, and Yunho as well. He could only stare at Jongho, uncertain of the next step to take, overwhelmed with way too many different emotions, all stronger than the others, to really know what he was actually feeling in this instant. Through his blurry sight, he distinguished his boyfriend slip out of the crowd that had formed around him to reach his trainer, who was talking with other professors. Jongho’s parents had crossed the guardrail as well and were covering their son with congratulatory words that didn’t look like had much effect on him.

  
  


“…joong, Hongjoong!”

  
  


Yunho was calling out to him with big gestures, a bright smile that raised his already high cheekbones in a happy face, Mingi turned around when he heard him call their friend.

  
  


“Don’t stay up there all alone, come with us, it’s over!”

  
  


Finally, he could feel blood rush back to his legs, and stood up a few seconds later, once he was sure his knees wouldn’t buckle under him. He joined the crowd as if he was dreaming, in a daze. Yunho was the first one to scamper up to him to take him in his arms, for once fully conscious of his surroundings, and Hongjoong felt like he was about to cry again when he realized that most of his friends hadn’t needed him to tell them anything to understand his state of mind. He always worked on the assumption that he was unreadable, and had learned not to get used to being on the receiving end of regular gestures of affection, and thus, tended to forget that he was now surrounded by people who were able to consider his immediate comfort as more important than their own victory. Even if they didn’t know about every detail.

  
  


“Don’t touch me, you’re soaked,” he enunciated with difficulty, choked by his friend’s hug, who let out a light chuckle, squeezing him even harder against him.

  
  


He noticed that Mingi had come closer to them only a second before the latter caged them both in his arms and lifted them up in the air just like he had done to Jongho. Yunho squealed, still laughing, however, Hongjoong was unable to hold a terrified and strident scream back, that immediately attracted everyone’s eyes in the complex, and triggered laughter from a part of their audience. Laughter that only intensified once they were back on their feet, and he started hitting Mingi with all the strength he could gather while calling him an _idiot loser_. Behind these names and his strong rejection, his friend knew was concealed the vexed tomato that was their friend, and it was a Seonghwa in high spirits who eventually immobilized Hongjoong by covering him with his own towel. San had ended up joining their side, not forgetting to bring Wooyoung away from Jongho’s parents’ dirty looks.

  
  


“I think he just confirmed that he gets to keep his scholarship,” the small young man said as a matter of fact with a friendly tone.

  
  


“His scholarship?” Seonghwa asked, surprised.

  
  


“You don’t say, he swims like a god,” Yunho sighed, envious.

  
  


“He’s the best,” Wooyoung immediately said.

  
  


He was so emotional, his makeup had leaked. He wouldn’t stop nervously wiping his cheeks, stopped continuously by San, who caught his hands as if it was a game, whispering compliments that no one else could hear, but that made the pink on the young artist’s cheeks bloom again.

  
  


“I should train more often, so I can avoid studying for finals,” Mingi groaned.

  
  


It was the last thing Hongjoong heard before all of his perception of reality faded away once again; he saw Jongho, from afar, turn around, walk up to them, then start jogging, run, and suddenly he was against him, his arms around him, his odor blending with the one of chlorine on his skin and his wet hair on his face. Hongjoong didn’t know from where he drew the strength that allowed him to wrap his arms around Jongho’s back, as red and blue finally found each other again, artistically linked by the golden of the swimmer’s skin. He was breathing so hard that Hongjoong could almost hear a wheeze in his neck, but he stopped listening to anything at all when Jongho abruptly cupped his face to kiss him like he never had kissed him. In a way that never before Hongjoong had been kissed before.

  
  


“ _Hold onto me if you’re scared of sinking._ ”

  
  


He felt like he came back to the surface when Jongho’s lips parted with his, to smile all squeezed against him, but felt his spirit sink just as soon when he heard him whisper, so low that he wouldn’t be surprised he had dreamed it:

  
  


“I love you too.”

  
  


Hongjoong had the hardest time in the world to regain control of his own face again and offer him a grin; and when he managed to, he felt his smile suddenly grow more prominent until his cheeks almost hurt. Jongho’s cold fingers were brushing his cheeks, his chin, his mouth, while he was beaming as if he was the center of his universe. Maybe it wasn’t, at this moment, too far from reality.

  
  


“WHAT DO YOU MEAN IT’S DISGUSTING, IT’S YOUR FACE THAT’S DISGUSTING!”

  
  


Mingi’s voice shattered the moment to pieces, echoing against each wall of the pool, and Hongjoong found him heartily yelling at a student who had joined the swimmers. The stranger was looking at the couple Hongjoong and Jongho made with a genuinely disgusted frown, but the tall swimmer’s roars had visibly, and thankfully, dissuaded him from adding anything else. He was immediately taken away by a girl close to him, who remarked in a biting tone that, in her opinion, homophobia was out of date since the end of the twentieth century. San was hiding behind Wooyoung, who was looking daggers at anyone who dared to look at Jongho too long, and instinctively, Hongjoong was looking around in the complex to find his now official boyfriend’s parents. He frowned when he couldn’t; it was Taeming who put an end to his inquiry.

  
  


“Jongho,” he murmured with a surprisingly soft and protective voice, “we’re gonna take you back, okay? Do you want us to drop Hongjoong off too?”

  
  


“ _We_ ” apparently referred to Taemin and the winning swimmer from the rival university, Sunmi, who he was holding by the hand, two towels messily wrapped around his other arm.

  
  


“Congrats,” the woman smiled.

  
  


Hongjoong couldn’t say if her mischievous glance was about Jongho’s victory for their university’s men’s team, or about their wet kiss of which the taste was still lingering on his lips. It tasted fruity, sweet, fresh, like an oasis in the middle of the desert. Jongho wrapped his arm around his waist, squeezing him against himself, and nodded in Taemin’s direction, without saying a word. Hongjoong didn’t need to feel the burning tears in his neck to understand he had just burst into tears, so he stood firm on his legs, supporting him as much as he could. A noisy sob escaped the swimmer while Hongjoong’s arms rubbed up and down his back, and quickly, they were surrounded by Wooyoung, Mingi, San, Yunho, Seonghwa, and Yeosang, in a group hug, a shield against the entire world.

*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AND HERE WE ARE GUYS I hope you liked it !! 
> 
> As I said, the plot is over, but the story isn't, and there will be an epilogue coming veryyyy soon. Stay tuned!!! 
> 
> Don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo or even a keyboard smash, it really helps me a lot to know if the work is worthy ;;
> 
> and again, because I'll never say it enough, thanks so, so, so much to phil aka @mingiopom for the whole translation french to english (because he can englishi), thank you, I love you so much :((( 
> 
> see you soon then, and thank you for reading, please take care of you and of each other!!! love


	5. Last Drop

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jongho won the race, but he still has to get out of his parents' place. Thankfully, he isn't alone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sooo here we are, the story is really completed for good now... it feels really weird ;-;
> 
> I hope you're still enjoying this and that this bonus will please you uwu

*

“Seonghwa, if I hear you sucking your teeth one more time _because you’re scared I’ll forget to put on the brakes_ , I swear I’ll throw you out of the car,” Hongjoong said after he almost abruptly pulled up short in front of a crossroad.

  
  


He didn’t drive often, but he thought himself to be quite trustworthy, or at least way more than what his friend – too anxious for his own good – let it be understood despite himself.

  
  


“I think there’s enough space left in the cart, if you want,” Wooyoung cheerfully added from the backseat, leaning in between the two front seats of Hongjoong’s dented car.

  
  


Seonghwa cast a frightened glance at the window, from where he could see Mingi and Yunho push around two stolen shopping carts, racing each other on the sidewalk while howling with laughter. Yeosang was sitting with his legs crossed inside Yunho’s, the shadow of a smile relaxing his usually tensed features; San was standing, his arms up in the air as if he was on a ship’s prow, inside of Mingi’s cart, yelling his joy whenever there was a speed boost.

  
  


“Those terrible things are full of bacteria,” the young man muttered, sinking inside his washed-out seat.

  
  


“In my humble opinion, it’s probably cleaner than this dumpster.”

  
  


“Hey,” Hongjoong immediately intervened offended, suddenly speeding up, “my dumpster is what is the most helpful today, so show some respect to old ladies!”

  
  


Wooyoung was getting more and more used to spending time with them, unfortunately way more than Jongho, whom no one had seen ever since the competition’s end. Summer was already almost coming to an end, and only his best friend had dared to knock at his parents’ door to help him store some cardboard boxes at his place until his student room in their college dorms would be available. The young artist’s acid humor was also quickly becoming more usual, quick and sharp comebacks always ready to be thrown at them, and for once, Hongjoong had found for himself a real rhetoric rival. Their banters were sometimes even tinged with a shared hysteria, both of them conscious of how much they terribly missed Jongho. Hongjoong now worked full-time at the local movie theater and called his boyfriend every evening as if the latter was traveling in some faraway country.

  
  


“Turn left, it’s the first house.”

  
  


He initiated the turn slowly, following Wooyoung’s indications and trying his best not to crash into the four other guys. Their neighborhood was fortunately peaceful in this late afternoon that put an end to this hot season, the start of the school year for a lot of people made these suburbs’ white houses quite calm. Hongjoong was focused on driving, but he kept his eyes out, curious to discover and scrutinize the place that had seen Jongho grow up.

  
  


Eventually, Wooyoung tapped his shoulder while pointing at a small paved alleyway in front of an irreproachable house, the walls painted in white and the shutters in bright blue. Planters overflowed with deep pink and vermilion red blotches, and a dark green trellis for ivy accompanied the polished wooden entrance door. Hongjoong exhaled with his nose; if someone had asked him to imagine how Jongho’s parents’ house from what he knew of them, he probably would have described the exact truth. Everything smelled like pretense and pressure, not a bit of grass stuck out, not a bit of dirt had lost itself on the immaculate walls, nothing was left to nature’s will, free. So, he parked exactly on the paved alleyway, surprised by an adrenaline boost.

  
  


“I’m gonna ring the bell first,” Wooyoung mumbled.

  
  


Just like Hongjoong now, he looked like he lacked self-confidence. Seonghwa cast a glance through the window and opened it to catch Yeosang's hand through the shopping cart's fence.

  
  


“We’re all going together,” he said to the other two.

  
  


“You’re sure about this?”

  
  


The tall swimmer nodded.

  
  


“We ring the bell, we say hello, and we don’t ask for their opinions to go get Jongho’s stuff, and then we leave. It’s useless to beat around the bush.”

  
  


“Say, it’s not like you to rush in,” Hongjoong teased.

  
  


Seonghwa shrugged and answered with an even voice:

  
  


“I’m tired of this kind of situation. I don’t want to make it harder for Jongho, nor to show some respect for parents who don’t deserve to have a kid.”

  
  


A religious hush settled inside the car; from outside, Yeosang tightened his hold on his boyfriend's hand, ignoring San, Yunho, and Mingi's who were howling of laughter.

  
  


“It’s still better if Hongjoong stays in the car,” Wooyoung intervened, his eyes strained on his phone’s screen.

  
  


The person of interest's red hair was thrown back on his headrest from irritation, facing the street, an arm holding a cigarette outside of his car’s window, while everyone else walked to Jongho’s house. He didn’t want to be the cause of a scene, but his frustration reached its height.

  
  


*

  
  


_Okay, but tell Hongjoong not to go anywhere near the house. He’s been breaking down to me all the possible ways to send him to the hospital for a week._

  
  


Jongho wiped his eyes with the back of his hand while sending a worried text to Wooyoung, and patiently waited for the bell to ring, his eyes lost in the vague. All his stuff had been entirely packed up, except for what he would definitively leave at his parents’ home, a few childhood toys, gifts that he didn’t care much about, old textbooks that weren’t useful anymore. The walls had been stripped bare of the pictures and posters that used to warm the heart of the adolescent he once had been. He still had a big bag in the middle of all these boxes filled with clothes, that contained the rare leftovers of his childhood. A bag of transparent marbles, a folder full of Wooyoung’s old drawings, a deck of cards that had turned yellow with time, an old game console – he wasn’t even sure it still worked – out of fashion since long, his favorite book, and five to six albums from the first singer he had fallen in love with. This sparse collection of more than a dozen of years was almost completely hidden by the bunch of plushies he had tried to stuff in the bag, though; it was out of the question to leave a single cute stuffed animal in his father’s vengeful hands.

  
  


He wasn’t sad to leave the house that had seen him grow up; even if he was moving out for good, he was sure it wouldn’t be definitive. His mother would probably end up calming his father, and he would sometimes be invited to awkward and risky family reunion dinners. The actual issue was the realization that Jongho had never really felt at home here, no matter how personal and welcoming he had tried to make his room to be. He had never felt at home at Wooyoung’s either; he wasn’t sure he would ever feel at home anywhere. He had yet to see his future student room at the campus dorms, since he was grounded, and had had to do with the pictures his best friend had sent him – pictures on which we could furtively make out San's honey-blond strands. If he missed Hongjoong, it was also the case for Wooyoung, who had taken the further step with San since then, and once again, Jongho couldn't be here for his friend. Talking to him, spending time laughing with the other guys, holding Hongjoong's hand; he already terribly missed everything he could have tasted the past few months. Victory had never had such a bitter taste to it, plunging his house into silence, except for dinners during which his father inevitably started to curse his boyfriend, if not threaten him. If at least, Jongho's mother was mostly passive and quiet, in reality, it didn't make anything better, her son then vaguely feeling guilty for making this many issues, when she tried her best not to cause any.

  
  


Wooyoung finally rang the bell and put a stop to his train of thought, and he rushed into the staircase, scared to crash into his father and risk to begin the afternoon with a shouting battle. He very well knew that he wouldn’t leave the house without yet another scene, but he did count on pushing it to the latest possible.

  
  


“Express move!” Mingi yelled when the door was barely opened.

  
  


“We couldn’t find trucks, you’ll excuse us…”

  
  


“Come on, shopping carts are perfect!”

  
  


“You’re kidding, it’s obvious you’re not the one pushing them!”

  
  


“Well, anyway, where do we go to get the boxes?”

  
  


Leaving the five others to cheerfully chatter on behind him, Wooyoung threw himself into Jongho’s arms, squeezing him so tightly against him they almost fell over to their asses like two idiots.

  
  


“But…” the swimmer stammered.

  
  


“What?” Seonghwa softly answered, a smile blooming on his fatherly face.

  
  


“Wooyoung… didn’t tell me… you would all be here…”

  
  


And he copiously sniffled into his best friend’s customized jean jacket.

  
  


“Did you really think that Wooyoung would be able to move everything all by himself?” Yeosang sarcastically said, his arms crossed.

  
  


“I mean, it won’t be you either,” San counterattacked, narrowing his eyes.

  
  


“ _It’s too heavy,_ " his friend mumbled, scrunching his nose with a dignified air, while Yunho came further inside to curiously look at the house's interior.

  
  


“Jongho, what is it?”

  
  


His mother, a small woman with short and curly hair, got out of the kitchen to peer into the doorway, without taking her old-fashioned apron.

  
  


“They’re here to help me move. Stay here, I’ll go get them,” her son informed without looking at her.

  
  


“You don’t really have that many things to move, right? Come on… it’s not like you have to take everything with you, do you? You’ll come back soon!”

  
  


Jongho had a hard time to keep up a smile on his face with a look he hoped comforting. However, he couldn’t open his mouth that San’s voice retorted for him:

  
  


“As long as Hongjoong can’t go anywhere near your house without risking to be shot with a slingshot, and Wooyoung could get hit any moment, there’s no way, let’s be honest.”

  
  


“ _No_ , San, we’re not going to be honest _at all_!” Seonghwa panicked, immediately taking him upstairs while holding him under his arm.

  
  


Wooyoung stayed still there, gaping and his eyes wide, while Jongho’s lungs felt like they had been emptied of all their air. Going after Seonghwa and San, Yeosang calmly shrugged in the two other boys’ way:

  
  


“Ah, well, you sure aren’t ready for what you’re getting into.”

  
  


“The room… on the right, Mingi, not here, it’s the bathroom!”

  
  


“THE DOOR ON THE RIGHT, YUNHO,” Wooyoung yelled, rushing into the staircase as well when the young man tried to go inside the office of Jongho’s father.

  
  


Jongho, dumbstruck, stayed still for a moment, not knowing what to do with himself, in the doorway, without even noticing that his mother had gone back into the kitchen, her shoulders sagging. He could hear the boys somehow squeeze themselves into his room with catlike stealth and no discretion whatsoever. He felt his chest warming up, as the freezing silence was melting into a reassuring spring. Jongho closed his eyes a moment, finding peace in his friends' refreshing presence, before peeking his head out the door. A few meters away, two shopping carts, and a car with flaking paint. Inside the car, he could see a tuft of bright red hair and a string of white smoke dancing before blending with the blue sky. His heart hammering strongly, Jongho momentarily forgot about his surroundings to rush to the small ruby who turned his back to him. It didn't take him long before reaching the car, to walk around it, and crouch down to be at the open window's level; Hongjoong startled and bumped his head with a muffled noise.

  
  


“Jongho! You’re not-”

  
  


The end of his sentence was drowned in a thirsty kiss, its fervor casting a dizzy spell on both young men, like the first cigarette, or glass of alcohol.

  
  


“So, heard you’re grounded?” Hongjoong teased against his boyfriend’s lips.

  
  


Jongho’s face immediately turned dark.

  
  


“I hate him.”

  
  


Hongjoong’s small hand threw the butt of his cigarette in his car’s ashtray, before cupping the swimmer's face, soothing. Jongho closed his eyes and took a deep breath, feeling more alive than he had felt ever since the competition.

  
  


“It’s almost over. We’re all here for you,” Hongjoong murmured, with a serious tone, before kissing his nose, his lips, his forehead, until he got a small squeal of laughter when he tickled him.

  
  


Hongjoong laughed, and Jongho slightly moved his head back to fully take a look at this view. At the way his pupils disappeared in two small crescents, his huge smile that split his whole face and fully revealed his white teeth, his prominent cheekbones tinted with a peachy pink, his pointy chin that he threw in the air as his head tilted backward. Unable to find words that wouldn’t break that magical moment, Jongho settled with kissing him again, suggestively dragging his bottom lip between his own, before being startled by the noise of something crashing against one of the cart’s metal.

  
  


“Jongho, the bag full of plushies, do we take it too?” Yunho asked him with a kind smile, just like it was usual for him.

  
  


The young man flushed as Hongjoong cast him a halfway between teasing and fond glance.

  
  


“I’m coming.”

  
  


Walking back to the house, he met Yeosang, who was holding two books with a determined look, followed by Seonghwa struggling to carry without stopping a cardboard box containing all the other books. As Mingi was coming out with his arms full of clothes, he heard something that froze him on the spot:

  
  


"Okay, but you know, when you hate gays like that, it's often hiding repressed homosexuality. There are a lot of studies online, you should look them up! You know what the internet is, right?"

  
  


“SAN, DAMN IT, CAN YOU PLEASE GET OUT!” Wooyoung screeched, hurtling down the stairs almost on his butt, while Jongho's father was staring at the small student with a mix of disbelief and growing murderous intents.

  
  


“Excuse me?”

  
  


It looked like he was starting to process San’s words, and his shock fading, Jongho very clearly saw his father try to raise his hand to San; so he jumped between them, almost falling flat on his face. Wooyoung grabbed San’s arm, who was squeezing a bag full of Jongho’s plushies against himself.

  
  


“Can you tell me who the hell you allowed inside my house? It’s not a place for all the neighborhood’s punks!”

  
  


“Dad, shit, go back to reading your newspaper and leave us alone!” Jongho blew up without restraints.

  
  


The slap he received in the face was his first one ever. His cheek, violently hit, started stinging; but it didn’t make him surrender in the least.

  
  


“I didn’t raise my son like that!”

  
  


“Give me half an hour, and you won’t ever have to raise me at all,” Jongho spitted out, turning his back to him to go upstairs as well, not waiting for an answer.

  
  


The bedroom was already almost empty, and a second round trip would be enough to have all his belongings loaded. Jongho moved most of his boxes on the landing, checking one last time if everything he was willing to take with him was here; he wouldn’t get a second chance, or at least refused to give himself one. Yeosang quickly came back up to take only one swimming medal with him, followed by Seonghwa, who hurriedly jogged to get the whole box. Mingi had brought with him what was left of his clothes, and Wooyoung carried out a last big cardboard box containing disassembled furniture pieces, after having softly patted a hand on his friend's shoulder. Jongho was unable to bend down to pick his belongings up and make a trip himself, too stunned by the first time his father had ever hit him; and mostly, overtaken by a monstrous panic attack, as he realized he couldn't see anything when he looked towards the future. He had only known this house that he despised and had only one friend that he couldn't even hang out with because of his own father. His grades were terrible, and he couldn't even work outside of college, if he wanted to keep up the swimming training, and would be reduced to living only thanks to his scholarship; bearing in mind the fact that he wasn't as resourceful as Hongjoong, nor as independent as Wooyoung and didn't know at all how to look after himself. The end of the road was engulfed in a suddenly terrifying fog, now that the D-day was here, right in front of him.

  
  


“Jongho?” Yunho’s soft voice called.

  
  


He then realized that he had slid against the wall to find himself sitting on the floor, his breath erratic and broken.

  
  


“Jongho,” the tall man’s voice continued, crouching down before him.

  
  


He opened his eyes with difficulty to look at him, conscious that he looked smaller than ever at that moment, his knees brought against his chest and held by his shaky arms. His eyes damp and his throat dry, he made an effort to focus on what the other boy was saying.

  
  


“It's okay to be scared," Yunho breathed out while brushing his hair back, "it's okay not to be sure. A new start, it's always scary. Try to imagine that you're in the pool and that you're swimming up to the surface. You're swimming, swimming… can you see the sun rays graze over you? You can reach them if you focus really hard."

  
  


While talking, Yunho was drawing circles on his back with the palm of his hand. He was confident that the tall swimmer must have been used to this kind of situation, but it wasn't the right moment for Jongho to ask him about it. He settled with following his advice with obedience and then realized that his breath was calming down, slowly but surely.

  
  


“Here, just like that,” Yunho encouraged him, “don’t be scared. You’re not alone.”

  
  


Jongho turned eyes clouded with gratefulness to him, before struggling to straighten himself, helped by the tall boy who currently looked like a small sun, all smiley and shining with kindness. His sight readjusted to his surroundings to see Mingi and Wooyoung looking over them from the staircase.

  
  


“We’re done,” Wooyoung said, sheepish, conscious that this step was harder to take than what Jongho himself had expected.

  
  


From the corner of his eye, he saw Mingi devour Yunho with his eyes, a dumbstruck look on his face’s large features.

  
  


“I’m ready,” the small swimmer eventually dared to answer, and his best friend replied with a loving smile.

  
  


When he reached the entrance, he cast one last glance around himself, quickly interrupted by his father, who brutally grabbed his arm. His adult face – red with anger, frustration, and hate – inspired nothing that could look like the bond between a father and a son to Jongho, and before he could open his mouth to say anything, Mingi showed up behind Jongho and made him let go.

  
  


“I don’t think there’s anything else to add, sir,” he politely said, and Jongho got out without further ado, dragged by Wooyoung.

  
  


He allowed himself a last look at his mother and tried with all his strength to sincerely smile at her before his father slammed the door shut behind him for good. He then turned to the two carts where his belongings were stuffed and burst out in nervous laughter when he saw San half knocked over inside the cart, in fits of laughter and his ass up in the air. Wooyoung threw himself behind him, also laughing, and tried to carry him in his arms, while Yeosang was calmly settling in Hongjoong's car, after taking off his coat so Seonghwa would agree to sit on it, on the backseat. Hongjoong opened the front door, next to him, without looking away from Jongho.

  
  


“You’re coming?”

  
  


*

  
  


Jongho’s beer clinked with Hongjoong and Wooyoung’s ones, respectively on his left and right, as all eight of them were drinking in the middle of his tiny student room. They were crammed to the point that if one of them stood up, he would have a hard time not stepping on anyone, but no one of them seemed bothered in the least by this proximity admittedly stuffy, but comforting.

  
  


Mingi had brought a polaroid camera, that he had already used a lot to try and take the perfect picture of San and Wooyoung inside the shopping carts filled with boxes, impersonating the main characters of Titanic. There already was, in a small cluster on Jongho’s bed, a picture of him and Hongjoong with his cheeks pink from shyness, some of Yunho making funny faces, each one weirder than the last, one of Wooyoung and Jongho posing like two movie spies; and lastly, the tall pole with his powerful voice had made them all sit on the small bed.

  
  


“What do we say, cheese?” San said, amused.

  
  


Multiple times Seonghwa and Yunho left the frame while chuckling, Yeosang violently elbowed Wooyoung in the ribcage, and Jongho wrapped his arm around Hongjoong’s waist as Mingi stretched his arm the furthest he could, at the bed’s feet.

  
  


“Shut up and make an effort!”

  
  


They spent the evening playing cards on the floor, Wooyoung sometimes stopping to hang one of the photographs on Jongho's wall. San made Mingi lose four times in a row while Seonghwa took great care into removing the smallest piece of his beer's paper label while laughing at Hongjoong's remarks. The apartment was noisy, and each one of them had a hard time making themselves heard amid bursts of laughter and offended shrieks, boys who bumped into walls when they wanted to go to the bathroom or smokers who opened the windows in their own faces. Everything was chaos and noise; and Jongho had never felt this much like he was at the right spot. He had never smiled this much; his cheeks were almost hurting. Even once they were all gone and only Hongjoong and he remained in the apartment, it was like he could still hear this cheerful echo that now resounded inside what he could call home.

  
  


“I still have something for you,” his boyfriend whispered, pulling him with him on the newly done burgundy bed covers.

  
  


It took Jongho a few seconds to process what he had just told him, his full attention turned towards the cottony feeling that was invading him with the thought that he felt safe, alone and hands in hands with the boy he had fallen in love with.

  
  


“Stop looking at me like that, idiot,” Hongjoong mumbled, failing to hide his blush.

  
  


“Like what?”

  
  


“Like…”

  
  


Hongjoong only let out a series of inarticulate groans before rummaging through his oversized jacket, to take out a small flat box.

  
  


“What is this?”

  
  


“Give me your wrist.”

  
  


Jongho obeyed, before seeing Hongjoong’s small hands open the box to gently take out a very thin silver chain, as simple as it was shiny. He slowly clasped it around his boyfriend’s wrist, visibly trying to keep himself from shaking.

  
  


“It’s steel… not precious, but hard-wearing enough that you don’t have to take it off to swim.”

  
  


The swimmer didn’t answer anything, while Hongjoong slim fingers slipped from his golden wrist to fall back on the mattress. The jewel was sparkling on his skin, timidly reflecting the electric rays of the streetlights that filtered through the window.

  
  


“What is it for?” he eventually managed to stutter out, his throat dry.

  
  


Hongjoong hesitated, uncertain.

  
  


“When I saw it in the window display, I thought about you. I thought it would suit you. Or…”

  
  


The steel had already heated up against Jongho’s skin.

  
  


_Or, I like the idea that you'd think about me every day._ He heard everything Hongjoong was implying but failed to tell him, multiple echos resounding each one at the same time in his skull. Overtaken by an almost unbearable warmth, he leaned towards his boyfriend with the firm intention to get closer to the sun.

  
  


_Or I’d like to show everyone that you’re mine_. Like a consecration, the bracelet shined in the twilight, freeing handcuffs and paradoxical symbol of a definitive tie to a new life. At Hongjoong’s side, the blurry future wasn’t scary anymore. Jongho forgot about his questions, his doubts, and simply found himself greedy to learn everything he didn’t know. He was confident, perhaps he even had faith, in himself, in themselves no matter if they would share a bed for their whole lives or not. Hongjoong had awakened something in him, he had given him the strength to spread out his wings, and if it had only been about love, Jongho knew he wouldn't have gone this far. Hongjoong revealed his own self to him, making their relationship something even more sacred.

  
  


_Or, I needed an object that would make us real._ Jongho felt teeth graze over his ear as his fingers dug into the inferno of his lover’s skin. They had yet to go this far, both giving their all to each other and yet active in some kind of carnal devotion. Hongjoong had removed his shirt on his own accord, his eyes blazing, and was allowing the swimmer to roam his body with his eyes, discover him, devour him. The words that were flying between them were naturally born of a new language, subtle blend of sounds, and touches.

  
  


_Or… choose the reason you want._ After more than a year spent timidly dreaming, it was surprising to notice that time was crumbling into the slump of a sensual eternity. Though, Jongho had thought he would die of frustration the whole summer; but now that he was finally burrowed inside the small ruby’s arms, the rush of first times had faded to morph into an appeasing fulfillment. They had the time of a whole lifespan waiting for them and, above all, they felt more at their right spots than ever.

  
  


_I don’t need a reason to give you anything._

  
  


“Thank you.”

  
  


*

  
  


“How did you know you were gay?” Hongjoong suddenly asked, in the autumnal alcove of Jongho’s nest.

  
  


He was mesmerizing, the young swimmer thought, lying there, between the burgundy sheets of his new room, only wearing sweatpants he had stolen to him, that smelled like flowery detergent. The bed was undone, the blankets didn't cover them, the ambient temperature nearing twenty degrees even in the middle of the night, remnants of lingering summer. Hongjoong was spread out there, his translucent skin contrasting with the deep wine of the comforter. Contrasting even more prettily with the swimmer’s skin, tanned, as if their colors though so different had been made to match and blend together. Jongho was convinced he would never be able to grow tired of this heavenly sight, one where a pale and strawberry-haired Hongjoong was lasciviously lounging on his back, half-naked, his hand linked to Jongho's and resting on his chest, where his heart was calmly beating, while the swimmer was lying on his side to watch him. Usually, he only felt this good when he was in the water, and the world disappeared to get drowned in blue; but Hongjoong had this magical ability to transform space and time, of changing gravity to his will and make the Earth spin in the right direction.

  
  


“What do you mean?”

  
  


“I mean," he started speaking again, turning his face towards Jongho, "swimming is all your life, and I guess that you don't usually vow an eternal affection to the first weird guy covered in piercings you meet in the street. I can't imagine that you've had time… to come to terms with it, especially knowing that your parents…"

  
  


The end of his sentence died down on his lips, hesitant about the way to word it.

  
  


“It helped to know Wooyoung,” Jongho admitted, “but there was this boy I met in an intensive swimming camp, one summer. It was two years ago, he was called Wooseok.”

  
  


He stopped to look at his boyfriend's face, half expecting to be met with a jealous pout, but wasn’t surprised to only see him attentive. It was easy to understand that Hongjoong, despite his insecurities, was all but jealous; perhaps was it due to his natural understanding of the people who surrounded him. He always seemed to have a head start on his friends, on Jongho, who allowed him to trust, if not himself, at least them.

  
  


“He was older than me, three, or four years, something like that. He saw how I was looking at him, and he knew before me… We kissed after the second dinner of the camp, his friend had secretly brought alcohol, and it was the first time I was drinking. We were playing dumb games, betting who dared to french kiss who… I knew that my father would hate this, but it didn’t feel dirty, nor criminal, at the moment. So we kind of stayed together for three weeks.”

  
  


“Kind of?”

  
  


“Kind of because we knew we wouldn’t be a couple after the camp, because we never confessed anything, it was only… physical?”

  
  


Jongho was blushing despite himself, and Hongjoong was looking at him with an amused gaze, a bit fond, without interrupting him.

  
  


“I guess that for me, it was mostly testing, even if I did have a huge crush on him. I sneaked into his room at night, and we kissed, we talked a little… and one thing after another, we tried a little bit of everything. When I think about it now, I think that we may have gone too fast, but I think that, without saying anything, we both knew things wouldn't be easy for us. Life, I mean. To find someone to discover our bodies with another boy. The fact that we knew we probably wouldn't ever see each other after this must have come into play too. There was less pressure."

  
  


“Yeah, I understand,” Hongjoong breathed out with a low voice.

  
  


“And after him… you’re the only one.”

  
  


Taken by surprise, the other chuckled.

  
  


“Oh, really? So you really threw yourself body and soul at the first comer?”

  
  


Jongho groaned, pulling Hongjoong against himself to roll on his chest, and it was hovering above him and staring straight into his eyes, that he answered:

  
  


“I don’t think you realize how much you deserve to be loved, idiot.”

  
  


“Getting insulted by my boyfriend doesn’t help, not gonna lie,” the small ruby retorted, but his glimmering eyes and his pink cheeks contradicted his disdain.

  
  


“Let me speak, for once,” Jongho scolded, not moving an inch, “I don’t know what I did in another life that was heroic enough to deserve to meet you, but I still think what I told you the first night. You’re precious, Hongjoong.”

  
  


The person of interest’s gaze was currently scrutinizing the ceiling as if it was the most interesting artwork he had ever seen.

  
  


“I don’t understand… I didn’t do anything. I never stopped running away from you, putting boundaries between us, I… I didn’t do anything, and listening to you it sounds like I’m a hero, but you are the athlete who can move mountains, Jongho. You are the one we should look up to.”

  
  


He sighed for a long time, shaking his head and took the time to kiss the tip of Hongjoong's nose before replying.

  
  


“You are precious. You’d give everything up for the people you love, that’s why you’re so afraid of commitments because you need it to matter enough to give this much. You have a world that’s only yours, that’s hard to enter, a world filled with so many fascinating things, all the movies you’ve seen at the theater thanks to your job, all the people you’ve met who taught you things, all the books you’ve read to analyze them yourself because you couldn’t take notes correctly in class. You’re clever, you understand the world, you’re a fighter, I’ve never met anyone as generous as you are. And above all, when I’m with you, I feel good, I feel like myself, and all I can think about is the need I have to make you feel the same way. To make you happy.”

  
  


A sniffle answered his soliloquy, Hongjoong’s eyes fluttering to stop their dampness. He eventually raised his head to rub their noses together.

  
  


“Mission success,” he whispered.

  
  


Jongho smiled, and then he let himself lean down on him for good. He snuggled against his heart, his arms on each side of his boyfriend, and closed his eyes. Multiple questions were churning in his mind, some dumb, others more pertinent, but all of them revolving around Hongjoong’s past, of his life before they had met, even before Mingi and the others guys, that he never talked about.

  
  


“And you,” he finally breathed out, “you’ve had a lot of boyfriends?”

  
  


A tremor in Hongjoong’s chest almost made him fall from his spot.

  
  


“You’re sure you want to know about it?”

  
  


His voice was full of mischief, obviously referring to the tiny jealousy Jongho harbored for Mingi.

  
  


“Stop it, I’m being serious. You never talk about it.”

  
  


He felt him shrug.

  
  


“Because it doesn’t matter too much anymore, but yeah, I’ve had a few. I didn’t stay single for too long until I finally could enroll back in college, probably because I couldn’t stand to stay by myself.”

  
  


There were a few seconds of silence, during which Jongho stayed quiet, encouraging his boyfriend to continue. Hongjoong slowly sighed and told him about it. A boy of his year, in high school, with whom he had only shared a few drunken kisses. A boyfriend who's dream was to produce music, a passionate relationship that had ended in frustrated shouts, and in regretting their lack of maturity. A shy and lost young boy for whom it had been too early and that Hongjoong had without success tried to help out of depression, who had needed a break up to learn how to help himself. There was a peculiar gleam in Hongjoong’s eyes as he was talking without a stop, his voice recounting with a waltz tune, regular and sounding like a lullaby. Jongho was watching him without saying anything, attentive to this puzzle of memories that was little by little forming this picture of the Hongjoong he had met. All the stories he had lived were the many pieces that Jongho wanted to find.

  
  


They were still snickering like children when the first rays of dawn started invading their room.

  
  


*

  
  


“We’re lucky it’s still sunny.”

  
  


“Jongho, when are you leaving for your competition, again?”

  
  


“I still have a month left.”

  
  


“Don’t bother him with this, Yunho…”

  
  


“Stop whining like this, it’s gonna do you some good not to live glued to him like a damn koala, Hongjoong…”

  
  


“Well, it’s not Wooyoung who’s going to miss me!”

  
  


“Let it be, he’s not listening.”

  
  


“Well, at least we don’t have to listen to San’s crude remarks.”

  
  


Jongho helped Hongjoong to be seated better on his lap while fondly smiling at the languid kisses Wooyoung and San were sharing, lazily sprawled in the grass a few meters away from their picnic table. Seonghwa was bickering with Mingi about the swimming team’s new recruits, Yeosang was sunbathing in silence, his earphones inside his ears, his eyes closed and his head on his boyfriend’s lap, while Yunho was trying hard to take the first group picture of their year with his phone.

  
  


The young swimmer had never felt happier than at this moment that wasn’t out of the ordinary. The same way a chrysalis turned into a butterfly to fly away, he was finally taking his marks in a new life, swimming in the blue sky and spreading his wings inside the pool’s water; squeezing against himself the treasure he had never had to deserve, that he had found inside a small ruby who smelled like cigarettes and old leather, sitting on his lap.

  
  


*

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> will I say thank you again to Phil for translating this WHOLE WORK? yes I will. Thank u so much babie clown :'(
> 
> please don't be afraid to leave comments or kudos, it's really helping me to know if that work is worth something lskdsd
> 
> I'm planning to write other parts to the story soon ! One each for WooSan, YunGi and SeongSang, every character needs to have his own story to me and everything is planned already!! But it won't be really soon considering I have to write it all in french and ask super-phil to translate it all after. But it will come for sure!!! Let me know if you're interested ;-;
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this adventure with me, take care and love you!!! thanks for reading!!! uwu!!!

**Author's Note:**

> see you soon for the part 2, I hope you enjoyed this!!!!
> 
> thanks again A LOT to phil for the english translation, don't hesitate to leave a comment or a kudo if you liked this, it always mean the world for authors TT you can also join me on twitter @jonghtoast hehehe
> 
> jongjoong rise


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